


Noli Me Tángere

by stplatinum



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Supernatural Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, a lot of OCs - Freeform, gratuitous amounts of Filipino language and culture and shoutouts, juiciest parts of the canon have been carved off and slow roasted for better taste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-03-07 11:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13433862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stplatinum/pseuds/stplatinum
Summary: Marius Augustus comes to terms with the horrors of Legion life and sets out to fulfill a promise he made to his mother years ago. Hannah Rose Walker crosses paths with Marius after she is captured by the Legion. Together, they have to learn how to trust one another to find freedom.(Chapters currently being updated! Apologies for all the confusion right now.)





	1. Chapter 1 - Flores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young boy learns his first lesson as a Legionary.

The gun felt strange in Marius’s hand. Too heavy, too large, even without the magazine loaded. A .45 caliber gun: Thicker, shorter, and much denser than the slim .22 his mother let him practice with. He hoped to God he’d be able to handle the kickback from this gun and not make a fool out of himself in front of everybody.

The Legate squeezed his shoulder, a gesture Marius had never experienced from an older man before.

“Did your mother ever teach you how to use a gun?” he asked.

Marius pulled the slide backward and locked it into place, sending an empty round to the ground next to Michael’s knees. Michael whimpered as Marius loaded the magazine back into the gun.

“She did,” Marius said.

“Good.” The Legate withdrew his hand and took a couple steps back. “I think you know what to do.”

Marius looked into the Legate’s blue eyes—a sight rarely seen in the Vault, except for the pair that stared back at him in the mirror every morning. He turned to the rest of the town square to meet the rest of his people’s eyes, but technically, they weren’t his people anymore. They hadn’t been his people in a long time.

His Aunt Sasha, oddly familiar with the Legate, stood by his side, clenching and unclenching her jaw as she glared at Michael’s kneeling figure. The rest of his family stood by the strange man in the fox cowl. Jonah furiously smoked his cigarette. Once they were officially Legion, he’d have to finally quit the awful habit, and it seemed like he was trying to get his fill of it before then. His wife, Hattie, held his brother Valentino in her arms. He was fast asleep, but once Marius pulled the trigger, he knew that wouldn’t be the case anymore.

His aunt, Ligaya, held her two daughters close and her young sons even closer. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, but the last Marius heard, his uncle was assisting Legion scouts in dismantling the rest of the traps that surrounded the perimeter of Vault 60.

Across the square, the del Rosarios and their loyalists were huddled together, bound and gagged by the Legion forces. It was a far cry from the freedom the rest of the families, like the Hernandez’s and the Dueñas’s, enjoyed. They had already begun the long march to Two Sun, where the men would become recruits and the girls would become midwives and priestesses for Caesar.

Marius wondered if shooting Michael would make the situation better. After all, Michael was the reason why everyone was in chains and collars now but did the others see it that way?

“Marius,” Aunt Ligaya called out, “just remember what he did to your mother.”

Aunt Sasha whimpered, the confusion in her eyes evident. “A merciful _datu_ will reap the rewards of his kindness,” she forced herself to say through gritted teeth.

“He poisoned her, Marius,” the Legate spat out. “If I were you, I would not let such transgressions go lightly. Punish him and warn the others of the wrath you’ll inflict if they cross you again.”

Thoughts swirled around Marius’s head. He turned back to Michael and stared into the man’s eyes. His mouth was gagged, but he was screaming something through the cloth.

“Do it,” Michael’s voice seemed to say. “Do it.”

Marius raised the barrel and pressed it against Michael’s forehead. The crowd gasped. A woman began to cry, but Marius heard a Legionary beat her into silence.

 _A merciful_ datu  _will reap the rewards of his kindness,_ he repeated to himself.

He thought about all the times his step-father raised his hand and brought it down on Marius’s skin when his mother wasn’t looking. He thought about the bruises and the scars he’d hide, knowing it would only cause more problems for his mother. Better to protect the peace her marriage with Michael had desperately tried to forge between the Agustins and the del Rosarios than to act out.

 _I’d never do this to my children_ , Marius thought as he iced his bruises. _I wouldn’t even do this to my worst enemy._

And yet, there he was: Standing before Michael’s entire family, aiming a gun squarely at his head. He swallowed hard, lowering the gun for just a fraction of a second. The pressure seemed to release in the crowd until a powerful gust of wind picked up and blew dust and smoke into their eyes.

Marius rubbed the dirt from his face and realized a flower had landed on his cheek. He had known exactly from what tree it came from just from the way it smelled.

 _Ylang-ylang,_ he thought as he breathed in the flower’s sweet scent. _Smells just like Mom._

He pulled the petal away and admired how vastly its bright yellow hue contrasted with the dirt and sweat on his palm. Transfixed, he didn’t even realize that he had the gun pointed straight at the ground.

“Marius?” Aunt Sasha called out. “Marius, hand me the gun, sweetie.”

“Punish him, Marius,” the Legate insisted, his voice piercing through the thick veil forming over Marius’s mind. “Remember Helena.”

 _A sign_ , Marius thought.

Without hesitation, he pressed the barrel of the gun back on Michael’s forehead and squeezed the trigger.

_Sulfur and lead and blood._

The sound of Michael’s limp body falling to the ground was barely audible from the screams and gasps around him.

 _Smells just like Mom_.


	2. Chapter 2 - Impetus

Hannah ripped the ribbons out from her hair and sighed as the pressure on her scalp suddenly disappeared. Her mother had tied her hair up so tightly that it gave her a headache about 30 minutes into class, but now that the school day was over, she could finally undo the knots and feel comfortable.

“See you tomorrow, Hannah,” Layla said, quickly giving Hannah a hug from behind. “I’m sorry you got in trouble for sticking up for me.”

“It’s no biggie. I can’t believe all that stuff they were saying about your dad. I mean, he’s the mayor. He’s not going to sell out the town like that.”

Layla shrugged. “People love making controversy, my mom says. It’s because they’re bored and have nothing else to do. Oh, looks like my dad is here.”

“Goodbye, Layla,” Hannah said, waving to her friend.

“Goodbye, Hannah!”

Layla ran up to her father, the mayor of their little town, and together, they walked back towards their big home across from city hall.

On the other hand, Hannah ran up to no one. Mom was too neurotic to leave the house, and Dad was busy fixing up the shed’s roof. Rubbing her sore scalp and gripping the disciplinary report in her hand, she marched home alone.

Their town was densest towards the school, and as she walked, the buildings and houses grew sparser and sparser. Eventually, houses and rundown shacks made way for grazing pastures filled with her neighbors’ brahmin. One of the brahmin, named Lovely and Lovely, Too, ran up to her as she walked past, demanding their daily head scratches. She obliged them, and then continued once she was sure she had given them the appropriate attention.

Hannah walked up to their house and found her sisters leaning against their fence, staring into their home. It seemed like they had stopped right in the middle of feeding the goats. Lucy still had the bag of feed in her hand, and around Bella’s feet was a haphazardly thrown semicircle of food. Mike and Lucky were eating straight out of the bag in Lucy’s hand, but she was too transfixed to notice the two goats decimate the fabric and spill food all over the ground. 

“That pastor’s awful friendly with Mom,” Lucy whispered to Bella. “Do you think—”

“Stop,” Bella cried, shoving a finger over her older sister’s lips. “That’s disgusting, Lucy. Mom would never do that to Dad.”

“You don’t know that,” Lucy said.

“Do what?” Hannah asked.

Lucy turned around and groaned. “Oh, look, it’s Hannah Banana,” she said. She didn’t even pretend to care about feeding the goats anymore. She dropped what used to be the bag of feed on the ground and twirled a lock of hair. “What’s that in your hand?”

Hannah tried to hide the paper, but Lucy snatched it from her hands before she could.

“Oooh, Hannah got in trouble at school, Bella,” Lucy said. “Mrs. Toby alleges, ‘Hannah Walker kicked Laurence Gibson in the shin.’ That’s awful, Hannah. What do you think Mom will say?”

Hannah tried to grab the paper from Lucy’s hand, but her sister held it high up in the air, giggling and taunting Hannah with it.

“Lucy, drop it,” Bella said. “Mom is not in the right frame of mind to hear about that.”

Lucy shoved Hannah to the ground. “Dad never disciplines her, Bella. Mom is the only one who makes her face the consequences of her actions. The next time Hannah wants to steal my clothes and use my makeup behind my back, she’ll think twice about it.”

Bella grabbed the note from Lucy’s hands and handed it to Hannah.

“Bella!” Lucy screeched.

“Go over to Dad’s shed, Hannah,” Bella said.

“He doesn’t discipline her—”

“You’re supposed to be her older sister, Lucy,” Bella said. “Act like it for once.”

Hannah dusted her skirt and rushed over to her dad’s shed. She ran past their corn fields, running her hands through the stalks and feeling the breeze blow her hair out of her face. Absolutely nothing could beat the feeling of running through the fields, leaving Lucy in the dust as she let her legs carry her far, far away.

When she finally reached her dad’s shed, he was carefully climbing down his ladder with his toolbox in hand.

“Hannah,” he said, “I knew you were home the second I head Lucy shrieking in the distance.” He set his toolbox down on the ground and knelt down on one knee. “I know your old man’s covered in dirt and sweat, but you’ll still give him a quick kiss on the cheek, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Hannah said, rushing up to her dad to kiss him and wrap her arms around him.

He picked her up effortlessly and covered her face in kisses. “You’re awfully affectionate today,” he said. “Did you get in trouble at school again?”

She pouted but handed him the note. He skimmed through the note and shook his head.

“That damn Gibson boys causing a ruckus again, huh?” he said. He carried her into his shed and set her down on his workbench as he read the note in more detail. “Political dissent, spreading lies about the mayor. Pulling on Layla’s hair, too. So immature.”

“That’s what I said,” Hannah cried. “No one listened to me. Mrs. Toby just said, ‘Oh, boys will be boys.’”

He tucked the note into the pocket of his overalls. “I was a boy many, many years ago. I never picked on the other kids—ever. I was probably the biggest kid in Diamond City, too.”

“Did you have a childhood bully?” she asked.

“Oh, yes, I remember him,” he said. “Little bastard, he was. Rudy was his name. Called me all sorts of names. Lost all his hair by the time we were in our late teens.” He ruffled his thick, black hair and smirked.

“What did you do about him?”

“Oh, I never did anything,” he said. “I was too scared. Glad you never picked that up from me. You do your homework?”

“Yes,” she said. “We were supposed to read, but I finished the book already. The algebra was really easy today, too.”

“That’s good,” he said, “because I need a helping hand fixing this special little gift up.” He pulled out a box of assorted parts from underneath his workbench and set it in front of her. He pulled out a small stepper motor and a handle. “I want you to figure out how to get this little motor to turn this handle exactly four times faster than the speed this motor turns.”

“…you know, I’m only in the fourth grade, right?”

“I think you can figure it out,” her father said. “And besides, it’s the last piece of your birthday present. You’ll see. Just  _ watch _ . I think you’ll like it.”

Hannah cocked her head to the side and tried to brainstorm what her present could possibly be. What would her father give her that involved a motor and a handle? It was a question that had her stumped as she rifled through her dad’s boxes of spare parts and magazines for inspiration until dinnertime.

_ Ugh _ , Hannah thought,  _ dinnertime _ .

Dinnertime meant sitting down with the whole family. Meant having to sit and listen to her mom talk. Begrudgingly, she pulled out the ribbons from her pockets and used her dad’s rusty old mirror to pull her hair back into two pigtails. With her hair tied up and her headache reemerging, she followed her father into their small dining room table.

By the time Hannah and her father arrived, Bella had already set out all the forks and knives for dinner. Hannah’s father guided her to come with him to the kitchen sink to wash their hands. Her mother was pouring out equal portions of soup for them. Wordlessly, she nodded at her husband and headed into the kitchen with a tray full of bowls of soap.

As she washed her hands, Hannah was horrified to see the soapy water on her hands turn gray.

“Could you believe how much grease those gears had?” her father said.

“Gears? I didn’t touch any gears today. Was I supposed to?”

Her father giggled and bumped her shoulder. “Darn it, I gave away the answer.”

“Wait. How? How would a gear do that?”

“I’m not giving you anymore hints!”

“But,  _ Dad _ !”

Her father was laughing too hard for her to finish her sentence. He dried his hands on a kitchen towel and took his seat at the head of the table.

Hannah took her seat next to Tommy’s, by her dad’s right-hand side. Tommy must have been able to go home a little earlier than usual because he actually had time to take a shower before eating dinner with the rest of the family.

Bella and Lucy sat across from Hannah and Tommy, and their mother took her seat opposite to their father. Hannah tried to read the expression on her mother’s face. Was she in a good mood? Did she know about the note yet? Hannah could not tell. Her mother was an emotional fortress. Nothing came in, nothing came out—not easily at least.

“Home early today, huh, Tommy—” Hannah’s father tried to say, but Hannah’s mother interjected.

“We need to talk about Hannah’s behavior in school,” her mother said. She avoided Hannah’s gaze and instead burned a hole through her husband.

“Later, Kaylee,” he said. “That’s not pleasant dinner talk.”

“I don’t appreciate the two—actually, three of you—” she eyed Bella, and continued, “—hiding this from me.”

Tommy nervously eyed his mother. “Uhm…what happe—?”

There was a shuffling sound from underneath the table from Bella’s direction, and Tommy yelped.

“I mean, uhm, the mayor let me go home early today,” Tommy said. “Says that there’s an emergency city council meeting tonight, and the meeting’s super top secret. Didn’t need me loitering around.”

“That’s great, Tommy,” Hannah’s father said through his teeth, avoiding his wife’s gaze. “I’m glad you’ve been such a great help around city hall. You’ve always been a great shot, after all.”

“I just want to know why they don’t make an actual police force,” Bella said. “You’d be a great sheriff.”

“Maybe in a couple years,” Tommy scoffed. “But the mayor says that the town’s best shot is Dad. If they’re gonna make anyone sheriff, it should be him.”

“How is Dad going to enforce the law when he can’t even discipline Hannah?” Lucy cried.

“Can’t you play along for twenty minutes?” Bella groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“We never have good family talks,” Lucy said. “Everyone just wants to sweep things under the table and never talk about it. And we all have to ignore the fact that Hannah has a problem.”

“What’s your damage?” Bella asked. “I don’t understand why you can’t just let this go. We’ve all done bad things in the past.”

“Yeah?” Lucy hissed. “We certainly have, and you know what? In the  _ past _ , Mom and Grandpop whooped our asses to teach us a lesson every time. But Hannah? Hannah doesn’t even get a stern talking to.”

Hannah couldn’t hold her tongue back anymore. She stood up and yelled, “Why do you have to bring this up constantly? Why do you assume I have such an easy life or that I’m the favorite or something?”

Lucy slammed a fist on the table, sending her glass of water tumbling down to the ground. “Because you are the favorite!” she screamed. Lucy rose to her seat and reached across the table to grab Hannah’s collar and pull her across the table. “Your dad’s favorite, and he babies you so damn much. You’re just a spoiled brat!”

“I’m a brat? All mom does is brag about how perfect you are all the time, and you certainly  _ act _ like you’re  _ oh, so perfect _ ,” Hannah said, trying to claw off Lucy’s grip. “Mom hasn’t even looked me in the eyes for months.”

“It’s what you deserve, you worm.”

“Enough! Both of you,” Hannah’s father shouted. His voice shook Hannah to the core, and suddenly, Hannah’s cheeks were wet with tears.

Tommy finally wrestled Lucy’s hands away from Hannah’s collar while her father had Lucy’s wrists in both of his hands.

“Let me go!” Lucy sobbed. She tried to jerk his hands off, but he kept a firm grip on her, pulling her close to his chest.

“Calm down, sweetie,” Hannah’s father said softly, resting his head on Lucy’s head. “I know you’re mad, sweetie. Calm down.”

“I hate you so much,” Lucy sobbed as she collapsed to the floor. Her father’s form gently fell with her, cradling her as she curled into a ball. “It’s not fair. You were never there for us, but you rush to her side, always.”

“Honey, I have always been there—”

“No, you weren’t,” Lucy cried. “Mom told us everything—your mercenary work, all those shady weapon trades. That’s why we’re in this house now, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

All eyes were on her father now, all except Hannah’s mother. She stared into her bowl of soup, hands neatly folded across her lap.

“What is she talking about, Dad?” Hannah asked, her voice shaking. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“You’re joking. I thought those were just rumors about you, Dad,” Bella said. She tried to take several deep breaths, but instead, she burst into tears. “I—I can’t. I can’t do this.” She got up to her feet and ran up the stairs.

Tommy hugged Hannah tightly and whispered in her ear, “Go upstairs, Hannah.”

“But, Tommy—”

“Hannah, go upstairs. I’ll help Lucy up, Dad.”

Hannah reluctantly followed Bella up the stairs, but not before looking back into the dining room at the foot of the staircase. Tommy and her father helped Lucy up to her feet. Her mother, on the other hand, still looked straight down at her soup as if nothing had happened. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap, and just before Hannah started to walk up the stairs, she could’ve sworn she saw a smirk creep to her mother’s lips.

_ Bitch _ , Hannah thought, not feeling a single shred of regret in her body.

When Hannah entered their bedroom, she found Bella curled into a ball on the top bunk of her bed. She had her diary in her hands, and she was idly paging through it. Hannah crawled into bed and pulled her stuffed bunny, Bigby, close.

“August 4, 2260,” Bella said. “I wrote, ‘Dear Diary, I heard a very interesting rumor about Dad from school today. According to the boys in class, Dad lost his eye from a sword fight with a monster: A man with a fox head. Of course, everyone knows that Dad lost his eye when he was a kid. He was playing catch with the other boys, scratched up his eye after wrestling too hard, and it got infected. The doctors had to remove it afterwards. But admittedly, Dad losing his eye to a man with a fox head is also very, very cool.’”

Bella’s voice was shaking.

“January 4, 2264,” she continued. “I wrote, ‘Dear Diary, the weird rumors about Dad are floating around again. I hate it. All these people are talking about how a friend of a friend swears that my dad’s some sort of weapons dealer to a shady paramilitary group, and that’s why he was gone for most of the time I was a kid, even though everyone in my house knows it’s because he needed to work as a guard for a caravan. I had a bad heart when I was born. My family needed the money. If only they knew. It doesn’t even matter what Dad did when I was a kid. Things are at least a lot better now that he’s the head of the household. Grandpop was a tyrant. Dad never yells. I can’t even see him angry, let alone some weirdo weapons dealer. I love my dad so much. I just wish the lies about our family would stop.’”

She shut the notebook and threw it down on the ground. “It’s rubbish, Hannah,” she said. She tried to sound confident, but her tone made it seem like she was trying to convince herself that and not Hannah.  “Don’t believe a word Lucy’s raving on about.”

“She said that Mom told her those things,” Hannah said.

“Mom’s a manipulative woman,” Bella said. “She always was, even when we were kids. Lucy’s just jealous because Dad didn’t raise you by manipulating you to every time she wanted to teach you a lesson. 

“We didn’t have a lot of money back then. He needed to work to feed us. I can’t hold it against him for trying his best. What’s important is that he’s here now, and he’s good to me. And he’s good to you.”

“Am I really Dad’s favorite?”

Bella sighed. “No, that’s a lie. Dad doesn’t have favorites. Mom on the other hand…”

Lucy opened the door slowly and eyed the room suspiciously. She took one look at Hannah and wordlessly climbed underneath her bedsheets.

Lucy had a bad habit of pulling on her hair when she was nervous. The habit had disappeared for a couple months, allowing the bald patches in her eyebrows to grow back. Tonight’s ordeal, unfortunately, reignited her nervous tic, and the fire had spread to other parts of her body. There was a single bald spot behind her head on the right side, just larger than a bottle cap.

“I don’t know why you even bother listening to Mom,” Bella said. “You know she does this on purpose. She knows that yelling and fighting with Dad doesn’t work anymore, so she turns us on him because it actually hurts his feelings way more. Lucy, you really hurt Dad’s feelings today. Are you listening to me? Lucy?”

“It’s true,” Lucy said quietly, sobbing into her pillow. “He just confessed to it. I heard him.”

Bella and Hannah exchanged looks.

“Confessed to what?” Hannah asked.

Tommy opened the door to their room. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Dad just confessed to everything.”

“That’s what we were just discussing, dipshit,” Lucy groaned.

Tommy collapsed on his bed on the other side of the room and glared at Lucy. “Have I ever told you recently that I love and respect you as a sister?”

“You’re a horrible liar,” Bella said, rubbing her temples furiously. “Just tell us what Dad said already, damn it.”

“He used to deal weapons for some army,” Tommy said.

“NCR?” Hannah asked.

“No, Legion. Quit after Hannah was born ‘cause he didn’t need the money anymore. Mom’s probably got a chip in her shoulder because he raked in tons of cash doing it, but it was weighed too hard on Dad’s heart to keep enabling the Legion.”

“Legion,” Bella muttered. “Aren’t they the tribal slavers from down south?”

“Don’t call them that, Bella,” Lucy said. “Those are Dad’s  _ buddies _ you’re talking about.”

“Let’s just…all go to bed, okay?” she asked, pulling the blankets over her head. “I don’t want to think about this anymore. Let’s just talk about it in the morning.”

Tommy blew out the lamp on his bedside table, bathing the room with darkness. Begrudgingly, Hannah threw herself on her mattress and stared at the ceiling, fighting off sleep until her eyelids felt like bricks. Something in her stomach told her something was off that night.

_ Tomorrow, _ she thought.  _ If I live to see the sunrise tomorrow. _

No doubt her mother would find someway to kill Hannah for ruining her perfect little life before sunrise. No doubt about it.

When she was sure all of her siblings were fast asleep, Hannah crept out of her bed and slowly tiptoed to the staircase. She knew every step to take, how slowly to open and close to door so it wouldn’t make a sound, which part of the stairs would creak the least. Her parents were still fighting in the living room. 

Hannah sat at the end of the hallway, cupping her hand over her ear to hear her parents better.

“We can’t afford to send them to school, Kaylee,” her father said. His voice was strained.

“We have to, Zach,” her mother insisted. “There’s a wonderful finishing school in New Canaan that Bishop Caleb was telling me about today.”

Her father scoffed. It sounded like he had knocked something over. “Right, Caleb was over again,” he said.

“Again? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That he was in my house again.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a fucking idiot, Kaylee. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

“Spell it out, Zachariah. Apparently, I’m an idiot because I have NO idea what you’re—”

“If you want to fuck a man that badly, could you have the courtesy not to do it in the house I built for you?”

More things were knocked over.

“Look at me in the eye, Kaylee. When you were pregnant with some other man’s child, I didn’t hold that against you. I married you, because I loved you, and I wanted to protect you. I took those jobs right after you gave birth to Tommy because I wanted to protect you and  _ my son _ . And when I came back, and you were pregnant again, I never once questioned who the father was. Because I wanted to protect all of you.”

Hannah wanted to run away, but she felt paralyzed. She had never heard her father so angry in her life. She had never heard about how they married. He hated talking about it. Her face was covered in tears. She continued to listen.

“If you wanted to protect your family, you’d send Lucy and Bella off to New Canaan to be proper women.”

“How many times do I have to keep repeating that we don’t have that kind of money? I couldn’t even send money back to my brother when he got sick, Kaylee. Where the hell am I going to find money for those damn Mormon tithes? And Jesus, I can’t force my kids into a life of servitude to some…” He chucked and continued, “Some made up God.”

“You keep talking about money, Zach.”

“Yeah, because it’s extremely important.”

“What if that wasn’t a problem anymore?”

Her father exhaled loudly. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me, Zachariah. What if it wasn’t a problem anymore? What if…you…had connections with your old friends again.”

“No. No. I only did the things I did because I had a duty to our family, but I’m putting my foot down for the first time in this marriage. That is not happening. I am not setting foot in Legion territory ever again.”

“A duty? I think you enjoyed running around with those tribals, Zachariah. I think they were more up to speed with the type of person you are than we are.”

“DAMN IT, KAYLEE.” Her father punched something. “How many times do I have to tell you that I willingly gave up that life to be here because I hated it? I hated every minute of it. If anything, you’re the one who loved all the money and the clothes and the gold I brought home.”

“Stop deflecting. You loved being out in the waste, Zach. Teaching those tribals a thing or two about guns and dynamite. Just like you treat Hannah. She  _ is _ a tribal, anyway, isn’t she?”

A silence fell over the whole living room.

“Look me in the eyes, Zach,” her mother said. “Did you force yourself like a Legion dog on some poor, unsuspecting woman? Did you feel guilty after you did it? Is that why you brought her home?”

Her father didn’t answer.

“Did you force her, Zach?” Her mother’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Did you force her like you forced me to breastfeed that little bitch?”

Hannah’s heart felt like it had burst. Before she could stop herself, she was sobbing and crying and gasping for air.

“Hannah Rose,” her father said. “is that you?”

She couldn’t bear to look at her father. Hannah dashed out the front door. She could hear her father chase after her, screaming her name as loud as he could. Her tears burned a warm path across her cheeks, chilled by the night air. The only thing that lit her way as she ran to her father’s shed was the full moon.

“Hannah Rose!” her father cried. He was several paces behind her, but his lungs were bad. Chain smoker for years. When he finally caught up to her, he was red in the face and breathless by the shed’s door.

“Leave me alone,” Hannah spat, furiously climbing the ladder up to her father’s loft. “I want to be left alone.”

“Oh, Rosie,” her father said, “how long were you listening?”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She could hardly speak through her sobs.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” her father said. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t want you to hear any of that. I just wanted to protect you.”

“That’s why Mom hates me so much,” Hannah said. “I’m not even hers.”

She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped herself in the wooly blanket her father kept in his loft for naps after they spent the whole day fixing up some new, fantastical pre-war gadget he scavenged. It was awful and itchy, but it was much better than the wooden floor of the loft.

“Your mother—your  _ real _ mother and I…had a complicated relationship, Hannah,” he said. “But I…I didn’t have you like that. I didn’t do that to her. You have to believe me when I say that.”

Hannah could only cry harder. It was unbelievable. Everything she was hearing was unbelievable. “I don’t want to hear this,” she begged. “Stop, please stop.”

“I loved your mom, Hannah, but she…” He took a sharp inhale. He was crying. “She wasn’t mine to have.”

Hannah couldn’t face her father. Her eyes were completely filled with tears for a mother she didn’t know and for a mother she unfortunately did, and her heart longed for both of their embraces.

“It’s going to be okay, Hannah Rose. I’ll always be here for you. It’s…it’s going to be okay, I promise. Let’s just go to bed and sleep. We’ll sort it out in the morning.”

“You’re lying. You always cross your hands right before you lie.”

He uncrossed his hands immediately. “Smart girl,” he chuckled. “Hannah Rose, I don’t care what opinion Kaylee has. But I’m your dad, and I don’t think you’re any of those things. I’ll love you more than any father has ever loved their daughter. I’ll love you more than any parent has ev—”

An explosion went off in the distance. She could barely hear it, but she could feel its impact. The whole shed rumbled precariously before settling back down.

“Dad?”

More explosions. Gunshots in the distance.

“Stay here, Hannah.”

“But, Dad—”

“Hannah Rose, stay here. Do not come out. Stay silent. Do not let anyone into the shed unless it’s me or your brother.” He shut the barn doors behind him.

She stayed underneath the wooly blanket until it itched and burned around her, and she could no longer tolerate the feeling of the fabric against her skin. He promised her that someday, when he’d get some extra cash, he’d buy a nice big bedroll for the both of them.

That day never came.

It was the last time she’d ever see him alive.


	3. Chapter 5 - Nocte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The people do not complain because they have no voice; do not move because they are lethargic, and you say that they do not suffer because you have not seen their hearts bleed." --Jose Rizal, Noli Me Tángere

 “Is this your first night patrol?”

Marius pulled his scarf closer to his face, relishing the heat it had insulated against his freezing jaw. “Yes,” he muttered, “and I am not enjoying it.”

The Malpais Legate smirked. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “All of us have to do our share of patrols.”

“Not the senior officers,” Marius said.

“No. But we’ve earned that right over the years. You…” The Legate pointed a finger right on Marius’s nose. “You have to earn it.”

Marius mockingly repeated the line under his breath when he was sure the Legate had walked out of earshot, but the Legate heard anyway and gave him a firm knowing look. It was the warning glare, as the other recruits called it, the one he gave before the “Forty one-handed pushups now” shout which came before the “Run laps around his camp until your legs are bloody and raw and you’re ready to follow orders and execute them well” rant. He knew these tiers of punishment all too well; he had managed to get the trifecta in one week about a year ago. It was a record according to one of the decani and not one Marius enjoyed breaking.

But that night, the Legate simply chose to walk away towards his lavish house. Probably to go fuck all the beautiful women he had locked away all for himself. But unlike other nights, the Legate didn’t have his usual energetic stride. He was tired and weary from their march. He looked his age for once.

Just a week ago, they had conquered another tribe. Too insignificant for Marius to bother learning their name, but Marius recalled the strange red tattoos that covered their bodies from head to toe and that they had both men and women warriors. How odd. He had slain ten of them with his machete, seven men and three women, and only walked away with a bruise on his leg. They marched back to Flagstaff to recover their troops and bring home their new slaves.

They reached Flagstaff the night before, and Marius immediately received orders that he would be on his first night patrol. He slept for the whole day, determined not to doze off like the other boys usually do on their first night but unfortunately underdressed for the weather.

What an idiot.

Ultimately, patrols were easy for him. Walk your route, stare out into the distance, maybe sneakily read the comic book you looted from a corpse earlier that week. Marius headed down a dark alley, hands deep in the pockets of his skirt, and kept his eyes open for any strange activity.

Down the end of the alley was the road that lead to the temple. He watched as a boy, not much older than him, escorted a young priestess back to her home. The boy’s hands were on her waist, pulling her closer and closer to him as they walked. Marius half expected her to resist, to push him away, but the slave girls in Flagstaff were different from the slaves they took out to battle. She was dressed immaculately in all white, and her brown hair fell in ringlets past the soft curve of her hips. Instead, the priestess leaned into his frame, giggling and whispering something into his ear. He laughed and kissed her on the forehead.

Marius headed down the road in the opposite direction, and his mind was clouded with thoughts of holding someone that close, that softly. The cold of the night seeped deeper into his bones.

Even though patrols had their set routes, you had a little bit of liberty to deviate. Deviating too much, though, would leave parts of the city unchecked. So Marius usually took his detours and quickly doubled back on his route. He took the time to pass by all of his favorite parts of town: The baker, the butcher, the armory, and finally the orphanage. Unsurprisingly, none of the kids were out that late, but their hopscotch lines were still on the ground, free for Marius to skip through while no one was looking.

And then, he walked his route twice more.

On the second time, he saw the boy from before walking on his own towards the barracks. Marius half wanted to ask him what his story was but chickened out. He simply marched on his route and tried to shoo thoughts of running his hands through the priestess’s pretty hair and her tiny little waist out of his mind.

On his third pass, he saw an unfamiliar shadow in the alley by the orphanage. Couldn’t have been another patrol, he figured. No patrol would be so dodgy. Readying his machete, he tip toed into the alley and prepared for the worst.

He listened intently. Hushed whispers. Two people. No. Girls. Two girls? Three.

“…then you just run down this road once you see the patrol pass by. Once they pass through, there won’t be another patrol for a good fifteen minutes, and then it’s a straight shot to our caravan,” the first girl whispered.

“What if we can’t run fast enough?”

“Fifteen minutes is more than enough time for you to run down that road, don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here, Fatima. I won’t leave you behind, I promise.”

“Wait. Someone’s here.”

Silence. Marius stopped dead in his tracks, his heart beating wildly in his throat. He can take them all on, for sure, but that was only assuming they’d stay still enough for him. He was, admittedly, not that fast. The smaller recruits always ran circles around him during training until he could catch them off guard and take them down with one hit. He debated using his machete to cut just one of them down to even the odds, but Mars. The thought of hurting a girl—not a woman, a _girl_ —disgusted him.

“Run!”

“Fuck!” Marius cried, turning the corner and grabbing the first girl he saw. She was taller than the rest, and definitely the oldest girl there. The other two, dressed in slave’s rags headed down the alley past him. Eight and nine, approximately. His machete was poised and ready, but seeing the tears streaming down their face made his whole arm freeze. So, he cut his loses, hoping someone else will nab them as they tried to escape.

“Let me go!” the girl in his arms cried. She was smaller than him, but man, did she put up a fight. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Each of her shouts were punctuated with a scratch or a swipe at Marius, but he kept her back pressed firmly on his chest. At least the little she-beast couldn’t get to his eyes.

“Hold still,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady considering the circumstances. He could feel a migraine work its way up his head.

“Let me go, you pig,” she said.

“If you don’t calm down, I’m going to muzzle you like a bitch,” he said back. The words felt strange in his mouth, like they were someone else’s threats.

“I’ll bite your dick off before you ca—“

He shoved his bandana in her mouth, careful not to let her get a bite of his finger. She submitted to him afterwards easily enough. When he pushed his weight on her, she knelt on the ground as he wanted and didn’t resist when he tied her hands behind her arms. He tried to ignore the tears that fell on the ground next to her knees as he tightened the rope around her wrists.

“Let’s go,” he said, though in truth, he wasn’t quite sure _where_ he’d take her. When was the last time anyone caught an intruder in Flagstaff?

 _Ugh,_ he thought. _I guess I have to go to the Malpais Legate._

As he walked towards the Legate’s house, Marius shuddered to think what he would say. Would he make her kill the girl? Torture her? Give her up to Vulpes Inculta, that slimy blonde bastard? The guilt grew larger and larger in his stomach as the girl sobbed and sobbed. She had slumped against him, feet dragging as he urged her to keep walking.

 _Fuck, speak of the Devil,_ Marius thought. _I summoned the creep!_

The Legate sat on a chair on the front porch of his home, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down and his hair still wet and tangled from his morning shower. The spymaster was in a similar state of undress, without his usual dog hat and only in a muscle shirt. He sat cross-legged with his back turned towards Marius. It was so early not even the commanding officers were ready for the day. 

“Oh, Marius,” the spymaster said, his back still to Marius. “What have you brought for us today?”

“How did you know it was me?” Marius said.

“Everyone has a different gait,” he said. “The trick is keeping everyone’s footsteps stored in your head and not mixing them up.”

 “I told him when I spotted you walking towards the house,” the Legate said. “Finish your bottle, Vulpes. I don’t like it when the boys see us lounging like this.”

Vulpes Inculta stood on his feet and downed the rest of his drink. Marius wondered if it was alcoholic, but to his surprise, it was just a bottle of Nuka Cola. The Legion’s hatred of pre-war technology branched out towards the drinks, as well, huh?

“Offer Marius the last bottle, Joshua,” the spymaster said. “No harm with just that, right?”

“No, no, I hate sugary drinks,” Marius said.

“Huh, no wonder why you’re so tall,” Vulpes Inculta groaned. “Josh must feed you only the best Flagstaff has to offer.”

“Don’t call me that in front of the boy.” The Legate’s annoyance was clear as day on his face.

“Sorry, Legate.” Vulpes stepped off the porch and knelt beside the girl. “Nice catch. She’s got pretty eyes. Where’d you nab this one?”

“Behind the orphanage,” Marius said.

“Then you should put her back where you found her, Marius.”

“She’s not _from_ the orphanage,” Marius said. “I’ve done plenty of patrols around the orphanage, and I’ve never seen her around before. And I found this map on her. It’s got all of our patrols drawn on it, exact timings to avoid the guards, and escape routes beyond the city limits.”

Vulpes took the map and examined it. Icy blue eyes scanned the page like a creepy, creepy hawk. “This is impressive,” he said. He pulled the bandana out of the girl’s mouth and tossed it on the ground. “Did you make this yourself, little girl?”

She turned her head away from him.

“Your dad make it or you? Your mom? Did they help you draw all the lines?”

No answer.

“It’s a shame to have to torture someone as young as you. If you talk, I promise I’ll only let _some_ of the boys take you. The handsome ones, too. I’ll let Marius be your first since you’re already so acquainted.”

Her eyes met with him with that. She shook her head side to side. A firm _hell_ , _no_.

“Did you see her help anyone escape?” Vulpes asked.

_I’m going to look like an idiot if I tell them I let two little girls slip past me. But I’m going to look like an even bigger idiot if I lie and Vulpes finds out._

“No,” Marius said. “If there was anyone that escaped, they slipped past me already. I found her behind the orphanage and figured that a couple runaways wouldn’t be as important as catching the one planning all the escapes, and someone else was bound to catch them.”

“Hmmm, well thought out,” Vulpes said. “Except this map is impeccably made. No doubt they did make it out. Shame.” He tucked the map into his skirt pocket and stood back up on his feet. “What do you want to do about this, Legate? Should we try…torturing the information out of this little girl?”

His hands traced along her collarbone idly. She pushed her body against Marius, desperately escaping Vulpes’s touch.

“No,” the Legate said. “I know this type of girl. We’re never going to get that information out of her with torture. Let Marius decide what to do with her.”

Vulpes Inculta laughed. “Oh, you mean… _her?_ How fitting Marius now has his own… _her._ ”

Mars. He hated it when the two of them spoke in code. They were like annoying siblings who finished each other’s sentences sometimes. Who the hell was _her_?

“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” Vulpes Inculta said, almost giggling. “If Marius is anything like you and this girl is anything like _her_ , the payoff from this is going to be huge.” He turned towards Marius, winking. “And if the rumors are true, she’s going to be a wild fuck. Hope you’re ready, Marius.”

“She—she’s mine now?” Marius said. “What do you mean?”

“She’s your woman,” the Legate said, walking towards his front door. “Take her back to the barracks. Sleep with her. I don’t care. Get the information out of her one way or another, but I guarantee she’ll close tighter and tighter if you hurt her.” He stopped before closing the door behind him. “Just don’t fall for her.” And then he slammed it shut.

“He’s still not over her,” Vulpes whispered.

“Who are you talking about?”

Vulpes stuck his tongue out and walked away. “I’ll investigate this map further, Marius. Report to me when you get something out of her.”

“Asshole,” he muttered, this time only when he was extra sure Vulpes wouldn’t hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many, many thanks for tumblr user randamhajile for helping me edit the shit out of this monstrosity.


	4. Mane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No good water comes from a muddy spring. No sweet fruit comes from a bitter seed.” – Jose Rizal

The rest of the boys in the barracks were gone for daily training. Marius got a free pass that day on account of his late shift. He was glad he and the girl got to be alone. It was his first time this close to a girl all by himself, and his whole body was buzzing with excitement.

Too bad as soon as he shut the door and untied her hands, she punched him square in the face.

It didn’t hurt physically, but it burned his ego a little more than he cared to admit.

“You are so creepy!” she screamed. “All you Legion boys are such pigs!” She tried to punch him again, but he grabbed her wrists and brought them to his chest.

“Vulpes was right. You are pretty,” he said, marveling at her smooth brown skin and the freckles that covered her nose. Not a single scar to be seen. The caravan she traveled with must have taken care of her, because her clothes were new and bright.

She paused for a moment and stared back. He wondered if she thought the same about him. Probably not. It had been years since he last got a good look at his face in a clean mirror, but from what he remembered, his cheeks were chubby, and his jawline was a bit round.  On top of that, he was covered in scars and dirt and dust from marching for a week straight, and he probably smelled like blood, sulfur, and lead. In comparison, she smelled so sweet and mild. It was outright embarrassing.

“I’m not going to hurt you, you know,” Marius whispered.

“Why? Because that man told you not to?” she said.

“It doesn’t matter what the Legate ordered me to do,” he said. “I don’t really like hurting girls. I don’t really like torture either. All the other boys who aren’t any good at fighting are always too eager to torture the slaves.”

 “Then do it! Let’s fight! I wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.” Her eyes were fiery. She wasn’t lying, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to.

“A girl like you? Kill a veteran like me? Like that’ll ever happen,” he said.

“It will,” she said, standing on her tiptoes and pressing her chest against him. She almost looked menacing.

“Look, can we just be nice to each other long enough for me to shower and then get some sleep? You probably need some, too.” He waved a hand towards his bed.

With a pout, she sat on the bed and crossed her arms.

“Hold out your wrists,” he said.

“I thought we were going to be nice now?” she said.

“I need to tie you up, so you don’t try to climb out the window or something ridiculous like that while I’m taking a shower.”

The girl held out her wrists, and Marius loosely tied her to his bed post. If she really wanted to, she could escape, but by this hour, the streets outside were packed with soldiers and merchants. She’d never be able to escape, with or without knowledge of the day guards’ routes.

“Stay here.”

“I have to. You tied me here!”

He tried to keep his shower brief, but it was hard to exit the shower with the water this warm. The water heater on the roof had a couple of hours in the sun already, which usually wasn’t the case when he woke up for morning drills. He scrubbed away at the grime and the dirt on his skin so hard he came out of the shower a bit pink. He patted his body dry, admired the magnificent bruise on his leg ( _Huh, it kind of looks like a thumbs up,_ he thought), and headed back to his room with a towel around his waist.

When he entered, she was already fast asleep on the bed underneath his blanket, her eyes darting back and forth underneath her eyelids.

“Didn’t even get to ask for her name,” he said.

He dumped his towel along with the rest of his dirty armor next to his nightstand and crawled into the blanket underneath her. The warmth from both of their bodies sent him right to sleep.

 

* * *

 

 “Oh, my God.”

Marius held on to his pillow a little tighter. It seemed to push him further and further away. “Stop wriggling around so much,” he muttered.

“Stop being naked then.”

_Oh, right. The girl._

He released his grip on her, and she was quick to climb out of bed away from him except her hands were still bound to the bedpost. She awkwardly rolled onto the floor with a thud.

“Why are you naked?” she asked.

“We all sleep naked when we’re at home,” he said. “Less laundry…not like we don’t see each other in the showers anyway…I’m going back to sleep.”

He rolled over, turning his back on her. She hopped into bed again and pressed an icy cold foot against his leg.

“Mars, you feel like a little gecko!” he cried. He turned to face towards her again and used his feet to keep her legs and feet far away from the rest of his body.

“Pig,” she said.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s Marius.”

“What?”

“Marius. It’s my name. Anyway, don’t call me pig,” he said. “I like pigs. I’ve seen photos of them, you know, from before the war. They’re really cute. Not as much of an insult as you think it is.” He grinned. “Unless you’re calling me cute, too.”

She punched him in the arm again.

He ignored it. “What’s your name?”

“It’s Ha…none of your business.”

He felt like punching a wall. “I swear, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re my girl now, anyway. No idiot would want to strike the only girl they have.”

“I. Am. Not. Your. Slave.”

“You’re not! That’s why I called you my girl!”

She sat up on the bed and pulled her knees against her chest. “Oh, my God, I’m going to really die a slut for this jerk, aren’t I?” she muttered. “I wanted to be like President Tandi when I grew up. Instead, this weirdo’s going to make me bear all his creepy Legion kids and cook all his food for him.”

“Ugh,” he said. “That’s gross. Kids? Why would your mind even go there? I don’t want any kids with you.”

“Because that weird ‘wulp—ez’ guy talked about giving me up to you! And a bunch of other boys! And you first, especially, because we’re such great friends! And then I wake up and you’re naked next to me!”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not going to hurt you?” he said.

She turned her head towards him. Her eyes were wet with tears. “You keep saying that, but you don’t understand what it means. You’re hurting me right now.”

He sat up next to her. “Is it the rope?”

“No.”

He untied the rope anyway.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

He wrapped the rest of the blanket around her anyway.

“Is it…my…” He glanced downwards.

Silence.

He dragged himself out of bed and put on a t-shirt and some shorts. Admittedly, it felt nice to have something against his skin to cover him from the cold.

“You won’t understand,” she said quietly. Her voice was barely a whisper.

He sat on the bed next to her and leaned in close to hear her speak. “I can if you explain it to me.” Gently, he reached out to hold her hand and gave it a squeeze.

She and stared into Marius’s eyes. “My name…is Hannah.”

 “It’s pretty,” he said. “Like you.”

Hannah turned away again. “Can we just go back to bed? I’m really tired.”

“Yes, whatever you want.”

That time, they laid underneath the blanket facing each other. She didn’t speak a single word, but even as Marius feel asleep, he could feel her staring at him. Examining him.

“Good night, Marius,” was the last thing he heard, but he couldn’t tell if he had dreamt her saying it or if she really did, finally, call him by his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to wait at least a week before updating again, but I couldn't resist. 
> 
> Thanks again to randamhajile for reading through my work, and all my lovely friends for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos on my stuff.


	5. Invidia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Man works for an object. Remove that object and you reduce him to inaction.” –Jose Rizal, La Solidaridad

He had three night patrols in a row after the first time he slept next to Hannah.

And they had all sucked.

First, he had to convince the other seven boys he shared a room with to just leave Hannah alone and not to ask her any questions or harass her. That did _not_ happen. The younger recruits were more than willing to get shut eye, but Marcus and Augustus decided to stay up all night and try to get Hannah to talk to them. As they all found out about Hannah, she was exceptionally good at ignoring people she didn’t like, so she simply pouted and glared at Faustus and Augustus until two o’clock in the morning when they got into a three-way shouting match, waking the entire room up.

“Your woman is insufferable!” Faustus cried, the sleeplessness plain to see in his bloodshot eyes. “I just wanted to know about profligate life and her purity, and she refused to speak to me! How hard is it to just spread her legs and show me if she has a hymen or not?”

Marius could barely answer before Augustus and Hannah were already by his side.

“It’s because _Faustus_ was annoying her!” Augustus groaned. “You talked to her like she was an animal. Do you know nothing about wooing a girl?”

“Wooing? No one’s doing any wooing around here—” Marius tried to set Augustus straight before Hannah interrupted.

“I hate both of them!” she cried.  

“Just make them stop,” one of the younger recruits begged Marius.

The second night, Hannah and Augustus apparently had a very nice conversation about poetry, only to have it interrupted by Faustus bringing a slave girl to the room and sucking face with her so loudly the rest of the room voted to and successfully kicked them out. When Marius arrived, Faustus told him all about Augustus’s slimy flirting and assured Marius he would watch Augustus’s hands for Marius.

“I really doubt she likes him as much as you think,” he said, though hearing that Hannah had a _pleasant_ back-and-forth with another boy did make him a little green with envy.

“Augustus is a sweet-talker,” Faustus said. “You gotta watch that snake.”

The third night was relatively quiet. Faustus actually fell asleep involuntary after running for a straight hour around Flagstaff as punishment for taking a slave girl out of her pen without permission. A decanus dismissed Marius earlier than usual so Marius could sleep a little bit before he would have to back to training in the morning. When Marius entered the room, Hannah was giggling at something Augustus had said, and it was the final straw for Marius’s pride.

Awkwardly, he collapsed on the bed next to Hannah without even    taking off his armor and fell asleep to Augustus reading Ovid to Hannah.

As Augustus dressed for the day, Marius couldn’t help but feel inadequate compared to him. Augustus was tall, muscular, blonde, and was an amazing orator. His voice was as golden as the curls that fell on his chiseled face. And he had a beard at fifteen already. Marius couldn’t compete with someone that good.

When the rest of the boys had rushed to the mess hall to eat, he took the opportunity to wake Hannah.

“You’re not staying here,” he said.

“What?” she said. “You’re letting me go?”

“No,” he said, almost surprised she could interpret his words like that. “You’re staying someplace else.”

He tried not to notice the smirk on her face.

 _How could she know I’m jealous?_ he thought. _Am I really that predictable?_

“Besides,” he said, “I’m gonna find you a change of clothes. You stink.”

That wiped the smile off her face.

He tied her hands together loosely and led her towards the Legate’s house. He’d know what to do, right?

Although Marius walked briskly, he often had to pause or slow down to let Hannah catch up. Her eyes were wide with wonder, staring at all the caravans and troops and priestesses on the street. Men were bartering with traders. Priestesses anointed soldiers with oils and powders in Mars’s name. And while they were all technically slaves, no outsider would ever be able to tell with Flagstaff was Caesar’s Legion except for the red and gold flags hung on every building.

“This is not what I expected from the Legion,” Hannah said to him. “I expected it to be a lot bloodier.”

“It’s pretty impressive,” Marius said. “You should see the parades when Caesar has an exceptionally successful campaign.”

The crowds tapered off around the Legate’s house. Some slaves tended to the greenhouse nearby, but besides them, people usually didn’t have business in this part of town.

“Hello, Marius,” the slaves said as he passed by.

“Good morning,” he muttered. “Is the Malpais Legate in a good mood?”

Half the slaves said yes, and the other half said no.

“Great. I’m excited now.” He turned to Hannah. “You can’t say anything once we’re in there, so get out all the questions now.”

“Who’s this _mall-piss_ man?” she asked.

“He’s second-in-command in the Legion,” Marius said.

“What’s his name?”

“The Malpais Legate.”

“That’s a terrible name. It’s not even in English. I thought Legion hated tribals and their barbaric languages.”

“None of those were questions, so I’m taking you’re asking and talking privileges away now,” he said and led her into the Legate’s foyer.

Marius half expected his body to combust, but instead, all he heard was the Legate’s laughter coming from the kitchen. He peeked his head in slowly and saw the Legate eating breakfast with…Caesar’s scribe? What was she doing here?

“Good morning, Marius,” the Legate said, though his eyes were trained on Aquila instead.

“Good morning, Marius,” Aquila repeated. The Legate sat at the head of the long dinner table, while

He stepped into the kitchen and straightened his posture. “Ave,” he said.

“Don’t be so stiff,” she said. “Take a seat. Have some breakfast with us.”

“I—uh.” Marius bit his lip.

“Your girl is invited, too,” the Legate said, waving a hand towards the empty seat next to Aquila.

“Good morning,” Aquila said to Hannah.

Awkwardly, the two of them took their seats, Hannah next to Aquila and Marius on the Legate’s left across from Aquila.

“Aquila and I were just talking about you,” the Legate said.

“It’s quite impressive how far you’ve come in the Legion at such a young age,” Aquila said. “I told the Legate I’m not surprised you already have your own girl. Most boys don’t have that until they make centurion.”

“Yes,” he said, still a bit stupefied. Caesar’s scribe? Talking to him? Having breakfast here? “Do you…have breakfast together often, Legate?”

“No,” the Legate said, “but Aquila had a day off. A first for her, actually, but Caesar decided to have some mercy on her. After all, she has been working so hard these past few months. A priestess like her deserves a break.”

“Hopefully, it’ll be indicative of what life will be for other women, too,” she said, winking at the Legate. “Since we’ve gained so much prosperity over the years. I doubt we really have to sustain ourselves with a society like this.” She took a long sip of her tea, her eyes not leaving the Legate’s.

“Perhaps I’ll mention it to Caesar,” he said.

 _Liar,_ Marius thought.

“It won’t be up to you to decide that,” Aquila said. “And it’s not a privilege I will get to see in my lifetime. It’ll be up to Marius when he becomes legate.”

The Legate scoffed. “Unless Marius learns to keep his mouth shut and keep a cool head, I doubt he’ll even make decanus anytime soon.”

“I’m a good soldier,” Marius blurted. “I follow orders and I do them better than even the older boys.”

“That day is evidently not today,” the Legate sighed. “Why are you here, Marius? I thought you wanted to stay with the rest of the boys. Have you come back to live with me?”

Moving back in with the Legate would be nice. He wouldn’t have to room with a bunch of other boys, and the insulation here was much better than in the barracks. Living with the Legate would also mean the rumors about Marius would recirculate amongst the men, but at least he wouldn’t have to worry about Hannah.

Marius bit his lip.

_But the rumors are so much worse than a stupid girl._

“I was wondering if Hannah could stay here,” Marius said. “I don’t trust the other boys near her.”

Hannah rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need another girl in my house, Marius,” the Legate said. “Plenty of hands here already.”

“Please—“

“No.”

“I hate leaving her alone all by herself.”

“She’s not alone in the barracks. There are always boys there.”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m worried about.”

“The other boys? They’re not going to touch someone else’s girl if they know she’s yours.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. The only reason why you’d be this worried about a girl in a building full of other boys when you’re not around is if you’re jealou—“

“I’m not jealous! Do I look jealous? I’m not. I definitely am not.”

In the corner of his eye, he could see Hannah biting her lip, holding back her laughter as best as she could. Which is to say, not very well at all.

“She can stay with me,” Aquila said.

Marius and the Legate both looked at her.

“I’m lonely,” she said. “And I could use the help…”

“Another woman in the court? I’m sure Vulpes will love that,” the Legate said.

“I don’t intend to take her into court with me. She can organize papers for me. And you’re good at maps, aren’t you?” Aquila asked. “You did slink past through all those night watches for so long.”

Hannah glanced nervously at Marius.

Marius nodded at her.

“Y—yes,” she said quietly.

“That’s settled then,” the Legate said. “We’re leaving now, Marius. We’re going to be late thanks to your little intrusion.”

“My intrusion?” Marius got up and followed the Legate. “You didn’t look like you were budging from your seat when I came in. You look absolutely glued to your ass—“

“Language.”

“Caesar can swear—why the hell can’t I?”

“How is that even a valid comparison? Are you really comparing yourself with the son of Mars?”

Marius pouted. “It’s not like my mom ever told me who my dad is. It could be Mars for all I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to randamhajile for editing this again! And thanks to my Amazing and Wonderful Overwatch Friends for exposing me into updating my fic.


	6. Cui Bono

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “There are no tyrants where there are no slaves.” – Jose Rizal, El Filibusterismo

Hannah watched as Marius left with the rather intense man and noted that, from a certain angle, they two almost looked like father and son. The Malpais Legate scolded him for his language and Marius said something about Caesar having a foul mouth, so why couldn’t he? 

“Do you have a name yet?”

It was the woman they called Aquila. She certainly didn’t look like a slave. Her black hair was wavy and slicked back, and she didn’t wear the rags that the slave women usually wear. Then again, most of the women she saw in Flagstaff didn’t either. Was this what the city was actually like?

“A name?” Hannah asked.

“If you’re going to be in the Legion, you can’t keep using your profligate name,” she said. “We all had our names changed when we joined unless the slaver that captured you decided yours was pretty enough.”

“Marius never gave me one,” Hannah said. “He said he liked Hannah, though.”

“Hmm, Hannah,” Aquila said. “Well, that’s between you and him, I guess. You should eat the Legate’s food while we’re here, by the way.” She slid her still full plate towards her. “The woman who cooks for him is a goddess in the kitchen.”

Since she was captured, Marius would bring her food from the mess hall, and they would eat on his bed before he collapsed and slept for the entire day. The food wasn’t awful. She’d had worse food when she was with her uncle, and it was certainly better than no food. _This_ food was delicious, though, and it didn’t have a strange tingly feeling as it went down the hatch. That usually meant it was relatively radiation-free.

Once she had finished, Aquila led her to her own house.

“It’s not far from here,” she said. And she wasn’t kidding. It was four doors down. Everywhere on this side of town almost looked like a pre-war photograph from a magazine or something. Sure, it was usually cold, and all the grass was dead, but the houses were repaired and repainted. The facades were bright and clean, the windows all had red and gold curtains.

Aquila’s house was much smaller than the Legate’s, and it was attached to another small house. It didn’t seem to be occupied. The windows were all boarded up, and the door was covered in spiderwebs. Next door was a much larger building. The façade was all faded away, but Hannah could still see it was

“Caesar lives there,” Aquila said, pointing towards it. “He isn’t there now, but when he’s in town, that’s where all the big decisions are made.”

Hannah couldn’t believe her eyes. That’s where Caesar _slept_. That’s where the Legion planned all their evil schemes. She wanted to burn it down. She wanted to burn this entire neighborhood to the ground. How could they all live so comfortably like a bunch of pre-war assholes, with trees, servants, and front lawns, when people were out in the waste getting raped and crucified?

Aquila’s home was bare, but it was decent. The first floor had a small kitchen and a sitting area where a bunch of sewing supplies were laid out meticulously on a coffee table. It looked like Aquila was working on a red dress.

“There’s a room you and Marius could stay in upstairs,” Aquila said. “It’s on the opposite side from my room, so I won’t hear anything…”

_Good! You won’t hear me punch Marius’s dick off the next time he tries to sleep naked next to me,_ Hannah thought. But she simply nodded and pretended to be excited.

“Oh, you should get new clothes first and foremost,” Aquila said. “Wait here. I’ll climb into the attic and find my old clothes and draw a bath.”

“I can help you,” Hannah said.

“It’s fine,” Aquila said. “Just sit and relax. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.” Aquila rushed up the stairs, muttering something about braiding Hannah’s hair later.

When Aquila was finally gone, Hannah walked to the TV in the living room. She tried to push the buttons, but as she suspected, it didn’t turn on. Even if it did, it’s not like there would be anything playing. Her dad always managed to get old electronics working—radios, lamps, and even a Pipboy once! Though the Pipboy died after her dad fried its circuits. But Hannah knew that all TVs play these days were white noise. Great for sleeping, but her dad told her they used to play all sorts of movies and shows back in the day.

Funny how a piece of pre-war history would be here. A remnant of her childhood from the very people who took it from her.

She gazed into the mirror and remembered that she occupied a real, living human body, that she wasn’t just some sort of walking consciousness going from point A to B and becoming unconscious occasionally.

“I look like shit,” she said, tugging on the bags under her eyes and attempting, and failing, to brush the knots out of her hair. Marius must be so thirsty that he actually thought this mess was pretty.

“Wonder what Marius would think if he saw my older sisters instead,” Hannah muttered.

Lucy was always supposed to be the “pretty” sister, but Hannah never understood the hype. She looked like any other blonde girl Hannah knew. On the other hand, Bella, with her raven black hair and piercing green eyes, was definitely better looking. And nicer.

Hannah was average. Lucy, Bella, and Tommy, before the Legion blew his head off, already got all the superlatives. In her mother’s eyes, the metric of Hannah’s actions were all the things her older siblings already did before her. Pretty, but not as pretty as Lucy. Smart, but not as smart as Bella. Brave, but not as brave as Tommy.

If only her mom could see her now! Hannah was the absolute best at getting captured by the Legion! Twice already? Impressive for a fourteen-year-old, really.

She bit her lip and tried not to cry at the thought of Tommy. It never got easier thinking of him.  

_That isn’t my brother anymore_ , Hannah thought to herself that day, holding her hand over her mouth.

The crawlspace Bella had shoved her into grew cold as she watched Tommy’s limp body fall on the floor. The spot where his head used to be was just a splatter of blood and brain matter on the floorboards of their home.

_That wasn’t Tommy on the ground. It was just a corpse. Not Tommy. He’s dead. He’s gone. He’s not suffering anymore—_

“You can hop in the bath now if you’d like!” Aquila called out from the second floor.

Hannah jumped, remembering where she was. No crawlspace, no corpse. Just the Legion again.

At the top of the steps was a small room with a box of dresses around her size. She turned the corner and found a clean, white bathroom with a clawfoot tub. She couldn’t help but gasp and gawk at the sight of a real warm bath. Even at the door, she could feel the steam on her face. Aquila sat on the toilet seat cover, stirring in something that smelled heavenly into the water.

“How do you get your hot water?” Hannah asked.

“There’s some sort of solar collector on the roof,” Aquila said. “It’s just a black box that heats up water, and it comes out of the faucets. Believe it or not, the centurion who built those boxes said he learned it from a pre-war ghoul when he was just a young carpenter. It’s never really scalding hot, but the sun’s been shining all morning on it so It’s decently warm.” She motioned for Hannah to hop in.

As soon as Aquila closed the bathroom door, Hannah stripped off all her clothes and got into the tub. The water was just the right temperature, and whatever Aquila added into the water helped all the dirt on her skin melt and left her skin soft and sweet. She cried when she finally was able to untangle the bird’s nest on top of her head, and her hair finally sat flat against her head again.

It was the first time she felt normal since being captured. No, since the Legion burned down her village, and she crawled out from under her burning home.

_Someone up there loves me,_ she thought to herself that night when she realized the flames barely even grazed her skin and again, as she rinsed all the suds from her body and emerged from the tub. Cleansed. Safe.

Her dad didn’t believe in God, but her mom did. Maybe He is out there, helping her escape from the Legion again and again.

She held up the dress Aquila had left for her on the sink, and it looked about her size. The fabric was loose and flowy and showed off too much of her shoulders and arms that she would like, but it at least went down to her toes. The shoes she left were a little big on her feet but compared to the shoes she had been wearing that were riddled with holes and filled with sand, they would do for now.

“My, aren’t you a beauty!” Aquila gasped. She was in the guestroom, laying out dress after dress on the floor. There were so many, all in whites and creams.

“These are all your dresses?” Hannah said, kneeling down to one with beautiful gold lace trim. It was so delicate and beautiful in the sunlight, Hannah almost felt bad for wanting to burn the whole place down.

“Yes, Caesar was very particular with my appearance,” Aquila said. _Kay-zer_ was how she said Caesar. Weird. “That one was for…some ceremony. I can even recall anymore.”

“Do you work for _Kay-zer_?”

She giggled. “Well, I am his slave. I guess we all work for Caesar,” she said with such a casual air. She sat on the bed with one of her legs tucked behind the other like a princess. “Specifically, I’m his scribe. He chose me when I was only ten years old to train under his other scribe. She passed away when I was fifteen years old—that was about eight years ago—and since then, I’ve sat in every war council, wrote ever letter, organized all his journal entries by myself.

“He was always particular with his record keeping. I think before he founded the Legion, he was also a scribe. At least, that’s what I gather from what little he’s told me about his childhood. He’s even more particular with the presentation. Hence, all of this.” She waved a hand over all the dresses.

“Where are they all from?” Hannah asked, touching her dress and feeling it slip right out of her fingers. They didn’t feel like any fabric she ever owned.

“Some pre-war fabric factory,” Aquila muttered. “But don’t tell anyone that. The Legion’s got to keep appearances.”

Hannah looked around the room. It was small, but Hannah would rather a small room all to herself than to share it with a bunch of siblings. By the bed was a weathered vanity with an opened jewelry box. She had never seen so much gold and silver in her entire life. She picked up a gold ring with one small, clear gem. It may have been a diamond, but she would have never known.

“Are there more women like you?” Hannah said.

“No,” Aquila said. “There are scribes and priestesses, working for Centurions and tending to the children everywhere, but I’m Caesar’s only scribe. Caesar thinks women are beneath him and that all we’re good for is for fucking and birthing. Jokes on him. I could bring the whole Legion down with one well-placed clerical error.”

_So why don’t you?_ Instead, Hannah said, “He sounds like a hypocrite.”

“They all are,” Aquila said, twirling a lock of hair in her index finger. “Caesar, the Malpais Legate, Lucius, the centurions. They all have their favorite women they lean on, depend on. Caesar has me. Lucius kept his tribal wife. I heard the Legate had a woman long, long ago. Now, he has many to replace the void she left in his heart.”

Hannah wondered if Aquila was talking about the same woman Vulpes and the Legate were talking about when Marius captured her.

“What about Marius? What’s he like?”

She tapped her chin. “Oh, you don’t know?”

Her heartbeat rose a little. “Should I be worried?”

 “No, no, that wasn’t supposed to be a warning. Come sit by me,” she said, patting the spot on the bed next to her. “I’ve been dying to braid your hair. It’s so straight.”

Hannah complied, sitting with her back towards Aquila and listened to her talk.

“Marius is a good kid,” Aquila said. “Well, the boys who were recruited when they were a little older are always better than those who were born in the Legion. They’re usually a little more even-tempered than what the Legion tends to breed. A shame, really. But Marius? He’s only been in the Legion for two years.”

“How old was he when he joined?”

“Eleven, I think,” Aquila said. “He’s only thirteen, but he’s seen more battle than some of the older boys.”

Is Marius only thirteen? He was at least a head taller than Hannah. What did they feed him in his old tribe?

“It’s a funny story how the Legate recruited him, actually. Marius was from some vault. Nearly abandoned, but they had enough weapons and women and children for the Legate to justify conquering them. I heard the second the Malpais Legate stepped into the vault, Marius was waiting behind the doors and stabbed him in the leg.” She laughed like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Boy, Legion jokes sure were weird. “Anyway, he was so impressed that he took Marius under his wing. He’s kind of his little protégé now.”

“And Marius lived with him?”

“Up until a couple months ago,” Aquila said. “Then Marius demanded to be treated more like the other boys.”

“Was he a teacher’s pet?”

“Perhaps a little bit. He didn’t have it any easier than the other recruits, but the Legate spent more time teaching him, so he still had a slight advantage.”

“Marius and the Legate kind of look alike,” Hannah said.

“Do they? I think they just spend so much time together that Marius carries himself like the Malpais Legate. That’s why I think he’s going to be a legate someday, too.”  Aquila tied off her braid and showed it to her. “Nice, isn’t it? Caesar likes this hairstyle the best. I think he’ll like you, too.”

“O—oh?” Hannah bit her lip. That’s not actually a compliment, is it?

“You ask questions and you listen,” she said. “And the old man just loves showing off how much he knows and talking. So, he’ll definitely think highly of you.”

_Oh, I get it_ , Hannah thought. _Aquila’s a little gossip. Too much time with the men means she doesn’t get to talk to anyone ever._

If it was a little sister to talk to for hours on end was what Aquila wanted, Hannah was more than willing to play along. Aquila was bound to say something that would help Hannah escape. She just needed to bide her time.

“Can you show me how you do your makeup?” Hannah said. “I’ve never worn makeup before.”

Aquila’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Absolutely,” she gasped. “Let me grab my—no, no. I’m going to get everything. I have so many good ideas on how to highlight your eyes…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1:14 AM, but I didn't update last Saturday. I felt so bad that I had to get something out!


	7. Dubium Sapientiae Initium

His throat was dry as the desert. “Th—this is the same Hannah I know?” Marius said.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who didn’t even offer me a single shower while I stayed with him,” Hannah said.

“The showers are shared,” he said. “I’m not going to let all the other guys stare at you in there.”

Marius did debate just showering with her to make sure she was safe, but that wouldn’t have ended with him in one piece. This arrangement was probably for the best, anyway. She seemed much happier after spending a day with Aquila. There was a certain sparkle in her eyes that just wasn’t there before. Undoubtedly, traumatizing her by watching her shower would have had the opposite effect.

Another unintended consequence of this was that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She looked the same, but now, she looked like a proper girl. Her hair was braided, her cheeks and lips were rouged, and she was in a dress. It was like the flowy dresses Aquila and the other priestesses wore, but it fit much looser on Hannah than it did on Aquila. He liked it better that way.

“It’s nice of you to join us for dinner, Marius,” Aquila said, setting his plate down in front of him. “Hannah and I had an amazing day together.”

A smile crept up Hannah’s face. “Aquila read me more Ovid,” she said. “Does that make you feel any type of way?”

_Mars, I really am predictable._

Marius spent the whole day training side-by-side with Augustus. That smug bastard. Every spare moment Augustus had was spent tormenting Marius, reciting Ovid, things that Hannah had liked. Jokes on him. The angrier Marius got, the harder he hit. When practice was over, Augustus was limp and black and blue all over, but the way Marius’s stomach twisted thinking about Hannah made him think that he was the one that ultimately lost.

“Marius, we really need to talk about Hannah’s name,” Aquila said.

“What about it?’ he asked.

“It really doesn’t reflect the Legion,” Aquila said.

Before Marius could answer, there was a knock at the door. One very loud tap on the wood.

“Are we expecting anyone else?” Hannah asked.

“No,” Aquila said, squinting her eyes a bit before walking towards the front door.

“Who do you think it is?” Hannah whispered to him.

Marius scoffed. “Maybe it’s the Legate, back for seconds.”

“Gross,” Hannah groaned. “He’s like, old enough to be her dad.”

“Oh, Vulpes. It’s you.” Aquila’s voice was flat and monotone as she invited him in.

Marius could almost see the life being sucked out from Aquila. From what he saw in councils, Vulpes and Aquila got along as well as oil and water. “Who let the woman in?” this, “why are we letting the woman speak?” that.  Still, she gave him a peck on the cheek and invited the spymaster in.

“ _Ave_ ,” Vulpes said, taking a seat between Marius and Hannah. “Well, well. Aquila sure prettied you up.” His finger grazed Hannah’s exposed collarbone. This time, she didn’t flinch away. “Marius, did you give her a proper name yet?”

“That’s what we were just talking about,” Aquila said. “Marius likes her original name.”

“What is it?” Vulpes said.

“Hannah,” Aquila said.

Vulpes slapped the table so hard, it made Marius’s drink spill a bit out of the glass. “Hannah?” he said, tears in his eyes. “Oh, this gets sweeter and sweeter. Tell me, Scribe Aquila, how do you feel about the name Helena instead?”

_No._

“I think that’s much more appropriate than Hannah,” Aquila said.

“I don’t mind it,” Hannah said.

Marius rose to his feet immediately. “No. Absolutely not. No. I am not naming her Helena.” Marius’s face burned.

“It’s really not that much of a problem,” Hannah said. “I didn’t like Hannah much anyway.”

“No,” Marius growled. “Any other name but Helena.” He placed his hand on the hilt of his machete.

_No means no, you fucking creep._

Vulpes turned his head lazily towards Marius’s weapon. “You couldn’t take me on,” Vulpes said. His voice was low and dangerous.

“I will if you don’t shut up about that name,” Marius said in the same tone. “And I’d win.”

Vulpes reached across the table and took an apple from the centerpiece. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll let it go. Sit down, boy, you’re making me nervous. I said it’s fine.”

Marius cautiously sat, and Vulpes made no other mention about Hannah’s name.

“I tried to figure out who you’ve been working with, _Hannah_ ,” Vulpes said. The sound of her name lingered in his mouth like a bad taste. “None of the children in the orphanage seemed to know. The priestesses admitted they didn’t even know that kids were escaping. I asked the other caravans, but no such luck. Either everyone’s very good at lying on the cross or you truly are an enigma.” He took a big bite of the apple.

“You crucified people to find out who I am?” Hannah asked.

Vulpes shrugged. “Don’t get any ideas that you’re special, now,” he said. “It’s just the Legion’s usual _modus operandi_.”

Hannah’s nose wrinkled at the sentiment.

“Did anything new and interesting happen to you today, Marius?” Vulpes said.

“You brought up my mother,” Marius said through gritted teeth.

“I asked about new and interesting things,” Vulpes said, “not dead and gone.” He took another big bite and chewed rather loudly. After swallowing, he continued, “That really pissed you off, didn’t it?”

Marius didn’t give him the benefit of a verbal answer. A glare would suffice.

Vulpes got up, stretching a little.

“Already going so soon, Vulpes?” Aquila said dryly.

“Apparently, so. It seems that my audience is a bit mad at me,” Vulpes said. The smile on his face went from ear to ear. Before walking away, Vulpes turned to Marius. “Two nuggets of knowledge for you, Marius. First, if you frown like that all the time, you’ll ruin that pretty face your father gave you. Second, don’t get attached to things you’ve already buried.”

With that, the Fox left.

Marius couldn’t think straight until he laid down on Aquila’s guest bed and screamed into the pillow for a good minute.

“Can’t you be a loud, whiny bitch somewhere else?” Hannah asked. She sat in front of the vanity wiping away the rouge on her cheeks.

“Aquila said I could stay the night,” Marius said. “And don’t worry, I bought clothes.” He peeked out from underneath the pillow and pointed at his pack in the corner of the room.

“Honestly, I wasn’t even thinking about that,” Hannah said. “After seeing Augustus, you don’t have nearly much to look at.”

Marius bolted straight to a sitting position.

Hannah laughed. “Oh, man, you have the worst poker face I’ve ever seen,” she said. “To think I was worried about reading you. You’re an open book.”

Marius sighed and fell back on the bed. “The Legate is right. I’m too explosive to ever get promoted. Maybe I’ll just stay like this for the rest of my life.”

“Just a plain Legionary?”

“No. In bed, screaming into this pillow.” He took a deep breath, buried his face, and screamed again.

Hannah undid her hair and jumped into bed with him. “Scoot over, I have to sleep here, too.” She lied on her back staring at the ceiling with him.

“Is Helena your mom?” she asked quietly.

He nodded.

“Did the Legion take her, too?”

Marius shook his head. “She died before the Legion reached our vault,” he said. “Breast cancer. It runs in the women in our family.” He wiped a tear on his cheek. “Got my grandma, too. Well, my mom’s mom, specifically. When I was really young, she used to make _miki_ for my birthday.”

“Mickey?”

“No, no, you’re not saying it right,” Marius said. “ _Miki_.”

“What’s in that _miki_ stuff then?” she asked.

“Noodles,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know. I’m not very good at cooking, so I can barely remember what’s in it. I can still taste it on my tongue if I concentrate hard enough, though.”

She scoffed. “You know, I thought you were born in the Legion,” she said. “Didn’t take you for a Vault boy until Aquila told me today.”

“Vault boy? How much did Aquila tell you?” he said.

She shrugged. “Not much. You’re from some vault. You managed to sneak up on the Legate, and then you stabbed him in the leg, which apparently means he likes you the best out of all the boys, so he let you live with him.”

He remembered that day. It was the first time he ever drew blood. The blade sunk so easily in the Legate’s flesh. It’s only gotten easier since that day. 

“What about your dad? Did he make it out alive?” she asked.

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I never knew him,” he said. “I had a step-dad, though. He was an asshole. Not going to lie…I was glad when I saw them nailing him on a cross.”

Hannah bit her lip. “That’s really harsh, you know.”

“He didn’t care about me,” Marius whispered. “The Legate cared more about me than Mike ever did. After my mom passed away and I got separated from my little brother, the only family I had was the Legion.” 

“And you know that’s the Legion you’re talking about, right?” Hannah said. “The slave army that murders and rapes and steals?”

Marius didn’t have an answer for her. “Did we take your parents from you?”

She turned to her side towards him. “Two years ago,” she said. “We weren’t a tribe or anything. Just a town trying to survive out there in the waste. I thought Vulpes looked familiar. He paid us a visit before he burned our town down.” She took a deep breath and toyed with her dress. “One of Vulpes’s men slit my dad’s throat. They weren’t…so quick with my mom. Tom—that’s my older brother—tried to stop them, but there were…too many…”

Marius could see the tears in her eyes. “You don’t have to talk about it anymore,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said, rubbing her eyes. Her voice was even again. “I was the only survivor. They took my sisters as slaves. My dad taught me how to hunt and how to lay low before. So I followed them, helped my sisters escape. They didn’t even notice me. I guess I’m just real small and sneaky, you know? We were living with our uncle for a while. He’s got a ranch in NCR territory, but…”

“Don’t tell me we ransacked that place, too.”

“No, it’s not like that. I just…couldn't live all cozy like that knowing the Legion was still kidnapping kids and women all over the wasteland. So, I ran away from home about a year ago. I’m even better at surviving out there now that I’m older. My uncle taught me how to make traps and live off the land. You know, that sort of gross, un-girly thing.” 

Marius stared at the ceiling, waiting patiently for her story to end.

“I had a hook up with this one caravanner. An old man,” Hannah said. “He was sneaking drugs into Flagstaff. I told him I wouldn’t out him if he helped me out. It was a sweet deal, too. He was filthy stinking rich from all his drug money and didn’t worry about raiders at all, ‘cause he had so many mercs traveling with him. Even paid me to go out and hunt for him, cause his vision’s starting to go at night, and the mercs he hired weren’t as good at tracking as I was.

“Whenever we were in Legion territory and especially around Flagstaff, I’d just put my hair in a hat and make sure not to let anyone get too close to me. The old man told people I was his grandson, and during the daytime, I’d stick close to the caravan, help the old man sell his stuff.

“Come nighttime, we were all business. He’d sell his Jet and booze to bad Legionaries at this one secret location that I don’t even know about, and I’d help kids pile into his wagon. Usually, I can get at least five kids out, depending on how many patrols are out that night. We’d crawl into the hidden floor he had in his wagon, next to his secret stash, and he’d drop us off at the nearest non-Legion town.

“I expect most of the boys to be egg-heads, you know? Spaced out or too tired to pay attention. This was supposed to be my last time, damn it! My fifteenth birthday’s tomorrow! I don’t want to keep doing this.” She shifted on the bed and glared at him. “Are you even listening? Ugh, why am I even telling you about all of this? You’re just a stupid boy.”

“Hey, don’t call me stupid. And I was listening,” Marius said softly. “I’m really sorry to hear about your family.”

“No, you aren’t. You don’t have to. You’re a slave like the rest of them, anyway.”

“I’m a soldier,” he said.

“No, you’re a slave,” she said. “You know who has soldiers? The NCR. They enlist when they’re eighteen. They serve for five years, maybe even more, but only if they’re willing. They get honorably discharged and go back to living a normal life. You? You’re a slave because you didn’t get to choose to enlist, and you’re going to serve until you die for Caesar. And instead of having a burial for you, they’ll just throw your body in a big pile with the rest of the boys and burn the bodies down until they’re just ash and bone. I’ve seen it. That’s what happens to Legion boys like you.” She rolled her eyes. “Pft. Soldier. Don’t kid me.”

“We cremate our dead because it’s easier than burying all the bodies,” he said.

“Yeah. Because there are so many.”

“No, because it’s a waste of time to dig that many holes,” he said. “Why do you even hate the Legion so much? The Legion’s done a lot of good to the region. Back in the day, you couldn’t even walk out into the open without being ambushed by raiders.”

“Uhm, hello? I thought you said you were listening to my story. Nowadays, I can’t walk around without worrying I’ll be raped,” Hannah said.

“We aren’t—the entire Legion doesn’t just…I don’t do that,” he said. “The boys who like torturing people? They’re fucking cowards. I hate them. Every single last one of them. They can’t fight fair and square, so they turn to people weaker than them and get an ego-boost like that. That’s why I like fighting with the Legate. We go in, we fight people, and we enslave them. None of that bullshit crucifixions and rape.”

“You think storming defenseless towns like mine is fair and square?”

“That’s Vulpes’s doing. I don’t know what he did or why he did it, but he’s a slimy asshole. I don’t trust him a single bit. He’s exactly the type of weakling in the Legion that I hate.”

“I don’t believe you.” Hannah crossed her arms.

“What can I say to you that will make you believe me?” he said.

“Well, nothing! You’re Legion! You wear Legion red. You fight for Caesar. You say creepy shit like, ‘ _Ahh-way_. True to _kay-zer_.’”

“We all have to hail Caesar.”

“That’s really creepy.”

“I’ve never touched a woman before in my life. My mom taught me better than that. She didn’t raise me a coward, or a sexist pig. I don’t see women below me.”

“Okay, but you don’t exactly stop the other boys from doing sexist things,” she said. “You could barely stop Faustus from harassing me! He wanted me to spread my legs for him!” 

“Yes, because I’m only thirteen,” he said. “Faustus and Augustus are older and stronger than me. I can’t exactly fight with them because they have seniority. Well, I can spar with them. But I can’t fight them like that. But when I’m a centurion, I’m not going to let my men just hurt innocent people.”

“If you make it to centurion. The Malpais Legate doesn’t seem so sure you’ll make it that far.”

“When,” Marius repeated. “Don’t listen to the Legate. I’m due for a promotion soon.”

“Okay, so when you make it to centurion, how are you going to stop other centurions from hurting innocent people?”

“I’ll set an example for the rest of the Legion.”

She rolled her eyes. “You are so naïve.”

“Naïve?” he said. “I’ve killed tons of people. I’ve traveled all over the wasteland. I know how the real world works.”

“Then you should be smart enough to know that being nice out in the wasteland gets you nowhere. People are going to constantly take advantage of you if you just act like the better person.”

“What’s the alternative then?” he said.

She tapped her chin. “Are Legates above centurions?”

“Yes, the Malpais Legate commands all the centurions on behalf of Caesar. Caesar always makes major decisions, but when it comes to the minutia of warfare, it’s the Legate that takes care of that. Wait, are you saying—?”

“Think about what Aquila said during breakfast,” she said. “Maybe women will have better lives when the next generation comes and changes the Legion, like you Marius. You could change it if you wanted to.”

Marius stared at her. She didn’t seem like she was teasing him now. Her face was neutral and calm, save for the furrowed brow that was busy planning, scheming something.

“You really think so?” he said.

“I know so,” she said. “I mean, Aquila spent the whole day telling me about how good of a kid you are, and how she’s sure you’ll treat me right. I think I trust her enough to believe that. At least. I think.” She tapped her chin, staring out at the wall behind Marius. “And if you lie, I guess I can always kill you in your sleep.”

Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her shoulders tight. He’d ignore the part about killing him in his sleep for now. “You really believe in me?”

Her body was loose under his arms. “Yeah,” she said. “Also, if you do make it Legate, you’re going to let me go, right?”

“Anything you want,” he said, burying his face in her neck.

She giggled. “I don’t know why I was so intimidated by you before,” she said. “You’re just a big teddy bear, aren’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't find an appropriate quote, unfortunately! So no quote this chapter. I'm updating twice this weekend because I missed last week's update!


	8. Puella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Children wake up in a fog of routine, adolescents live out their best years without ideals, and their elders are sterile, and only serve to corrupt our young people by their example.” –Jose Rizal, Noli Me Tángere

“Now, these shelves are confusing, and there are five of them, so you’re going to have to really pay attention,” Aquila said.

Another day as Aquila’s little helper. Hannah wondered if Aquila had to ask someone higher up if it was okay that Hannah was working with her in the Legion’s archives, but she learned that the men mostly left Aquila alone to her devices. She walked the streets without a chaperone, guards nodded at her as she walked passed, and other priestesses would bow their heads to her.

Aquila was _almost_ like a free woman, minus the fact everything she did was for Caesar and Caesar only. Even the clothes she picked in the morning for herself and for Hannah was for the guy. He wasn’t even in the city, but she still picked it out for him. Like, what the hell?

When she mentioned to the Legate that Hannah would be working with her in the archives that morning, he just shrugged. 

“Sounds good. Have fun. Good day,” he muttered, his nose deep in the map, and walked away.

It was odd to see someone she now knew was Caesar’s second-in-command acting so casually. She always thought that the Legion’s highest-ranking officers were constantly torturing and whipping slaves to death. Instead, the Legate seemed to spend the majority of his time flirting with the priestesses (gross) or yelling at Marius (funny). She knew that the rest of his time was probably spent planning the demise of some other poor tribe or drilling the boys to death, but she liked to think that flirting and antagonizing Marius was all the Legate did. It made it easier to cope with her current situation.  

“I’m listening, Aquila,” Hannah said. She tucked her hair behind her ears and watched carefully as Aquila explained her sorting system.

“The top shelf are maps of all the regions currently held by the Legion now, arranged by region. The regions are bounded according to that map over there. Each box is its own region. If you need access to one of those maps, climb up the ladder, take a box, but don’t put the box back on the shelf until whoever asks for them returns the map. Place them on the very bottom shelf until they do return it and write on a little piece of paper who has which map and put that note on top of the box’s lid. That way, we always know which maps have been taken out, and we don’t ever let one just disappear on us. If you don’t constantly pester the men about the maps they’ve borrowed, they’ll never get returned.

“Speaking of which: If the Legate asks for a map, we’re going to have to wrestle it out of his hands. Well, not you. I will do that for you, as long as you let me know, but I’m counting on you to remind me about that sort of thing.”

“What about that map you just lent to him now?”

“It was a copy,” Aquila said. “I’m fine letting that go. Alright, continuing on. The second shelf contains maps of areas we’re planning on taking in the long-term or areas of interest that our frumentarii are currently scouting. The third shelf has areas we’re interested in the short-term or are in the process of taking over. Notice that they’re all divided by the same regions. Try to keep the regions aligned vertically. It’s easier to find things that way.

“The fourth shelf is…ugh, this is what I’m hoping you’ll take care of for me today. The fourth shelf has documents that I haven’t gotten around to filing. Scouts and frumentarii and literally everyone else are sending them in a lot faster than I can file them. If I just got the chance to sit down and sort them, I could get it done in about a day, but I have to attend meetings, take notes, arrange those notes, make sure letters get written, communications are all sorted—”

“Is it just a matter of placing those maps with the right regions?” Hannah asked.

“That and I think that there are more than just maps in there,” Aquila said. “Battle plans. Notes. Reports. I’ll need all of those sorted accordingly in their own piles. I can’t expect you to know what regions we’re occupying or which we’re interested in the long versus short-term, but you can sort all the things that aren’t maps accordingly. I haven’t explained how I sort all of those to you yet, but you can at least start organizing them.” Aquila let out a tiny scream into her hands. “If only we had more girls for me to train in Flagstaff.”

“Do you have a shortage of…trainees?” Hannah asked.

“Mars, yes,” Aquila said. “There are very few who come into the Legion who are literate. You know how it is with these tribals. And we have so many troops scattered everywhere that we’re sending what few girls we have who can read and write out to these stations. The majority of the priestesses here are raising children, which is fine, I guess.”

From the tone of her voice, Hannah could tell it wasn’t fine.

Aquila continued, pacing back and forth with her hands on her hips. “Caesar thinks I can manage on my own. I did in the past when I was younger, but the Legion is so much larger now than it ever has been. It’s practically grown exponentially! That’s why I hate seeing so many slave girls. We need scribes, priestesses, nurses, midwives. We don’t need another pussy for some freshly-promoted centurion to fuck.”

Aquila’s chest was completely red as she picked up her messenger bag filled with scrolls and pens. “But of course, women are still beneath them,” she mumbled. “Despite the fact we run this entire empire, whether Caesar likes it or not.” She took a deep breath and turned to Hannah. “Anyway, off to it, then. I have a meeting to trans- _scribe_! Hah, just some…scribe humor.”

Aquila straightened out her red dress and fluffed her hair before closing the archive room’s door behind her as she left.

The archive room was a huge room with high ceilings and huge windows that looked out into the courtyard below. Sometimes, she could hear troops marching past, chanting in Latin. Other times, Marius and the Malpais Legate would spar in the courtyard, and she’d watch them closely to see if Marius was improving. He never actually beat the Legate in hand-to-hand combat, but there were some close matches.

Once, she watched them go at it for about twenty minutes. Marius managed to knock the Legate down flat on the ground. All he needed to do was pin the older man. Instead, he looked up and realized Hannah had been watching the whole fight transpire. Just that second of letting his concentration slip turned the fight around entirely. The Legate took him down just seconds after, holding Marius in a headlock until Marius was squealing to let him go.

That day, there were _praetorians_ being briefed below by a tall dark-skinned man. _Praetorians_ were Caesar’s special guards. They were easy to spot because they were all battle-hardened grizzled men armed to the teeth with way better armor than everyone else.

The dark-skinned man’s voice carried all the way into the archives. Every word was perfectly enunciated, every sentence perfectly crafted. He spoke about something regarding a promising new weapons cache location. Once their scouts had retrieved all the weapons, he spoke about launching an attack on some poor tribe.

He dismissed his men and straightened out his gold and red armor. As men walked past him to say goodbye, Hannah noticed he was half a head taller than everyone else. Something about his face that seemed familiar.

Tired of watching the men below, Hannah grabbed a full box from the fourth shelf and plopped it on a desk closest to the windows, where the light was the best. Time to get sorting. Or, really, snooping to find a way out of here.

Maps. Maps. Maps. Some notes. A random letter that was supposed to be sent out to one Centurion Augustus. (Everyone in the Legion was named Gaius or Augustus.) Then ten more maps. Notes recorded for a meeting with Caesar and a priestess’s letter to Aquila regarding the birth rate of the Legion. Then a bunch more maps. She barely even made a dent in the box.

“What’s the best and quickest way to sort these?” she said to herself.

Well, first, she could sort everything as maps and not-maps and then sort all the maps later. She could even sort the not-maps appropriately by reports, letters, or whatever else she’d find in these boxes now. She may not know where to file them permanently, but at least she can start separating them into the appropriate categories. That alone would probably take as long as it would take for Aquila to find time to teach her about Legion geography.

With her plan in place, she started filing through the piles of paper. One by one. Once she had a routine down and all her separate piles laid out on the floor, the process went by quickly. Half of the maps and reports were in Latin, and the stuff that was in English was complete gibberish to her. A disturbing number of the documents were slave ledgers. Many of the names listed were girls, and too many of them were younger than her. It made her sick to her stomach. She put them in a pile far, far away from her sight where she didn’t have to see it any more than she had to.

As much as she could, Hannah tried to interpret the maps she’d come across to try to find a way out of Flagstaff. Her hometown, Urie, was west of New Canaan where her mother was born. Occasionally, they’d have missionaries visit their farm, and their mother and father would let them stay if they worked the farm. They were always very nice, but they always put her dad on edge when they tried to talk to Hannah about their religion.

When the Legion took her sisters, they headed south towards Circle Junction, but she didn’t let them take her sisters over the border. She helped Lucy and Bella escape somewhere north of Route 419, and then she led them to New Canaan where the missionaries helped them reach Vault City where her uncle lived.

Flagstaff was the furthest she had ever gone south, and other than the route Old Man Hiram took to get from New Vegas to Flagstaff, she was painfully unaware of how to find her way back to New Vegas without getting caught.

If all of this happened a year ago, she could’ve cut her hair short, as much as that would pain her to do, and wandered around pretending to be a boy. Nowadays, it was getting harder and harder to hide the fact she’s definitely a girl. Puberty was awful.

It dawned on her, sometime during the mid-afternoon, that there would be no way she would be able to reach New Vegas on her own. According to the reports she read, the Legion had increased activity all along their western border near the Hoover Dam. The roads leading there would be thick with Legionaries.

Her only hope was somehow coercing Marius to help her escape. Luckily, he was more agreeable to be around these days. He snored loudly, took up the entire bed, and constantly asked her if he could have good morning and good night hugs (which she gave to him willingly to prime him into doing her bidding; thankfully, he bathed on a regular basis), but at least he was a lot more relaxed around her these days.

At some point, Aquila returned, but she was much too busy scribbling down notes and filing them away in the intricate system she had devised. She muttered to herself as she did, paying absolutely no attention to Hannah as she worked. Hannah liked it that way. Aquila was lost in her work, she was lost in her own.

“I’m going to murder you, Vulpes,” Aquila hissed into the paper on her desk. “I can’t believe these numbers…”

“Is there something wrong?” Hannah asked.

“Fifty crucified townsfolk,” Aquila said. “And not a single person enslaved. Among them was a woman doctor. Didn’t I just get done saying that we needed more midwives and nurses? Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Aquila scribbled some last words furiously on the paper and neatly folded it into an envelope. “Of course, I can’t do anything about that. I’m just the scribe.”

_Literally nothing you say makes any moral sense, damn it,_ Hannah thought to herself. She almost said something when there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Hello, Aquila.” It was the Legate again.

“Hello, Malpais Legate. What brings you here again today?”

“A trade,” he said, waving the map he borrowed for earlier in the air. “This map for Hannah.”

“Well, I hope you know she’s not my girl to be lending out,” Aquila said.

“I’m well aware,” he said. “Rest assured, I won’t be rescinding Marius’s ownership of her. I’m just interested in talking.” 

“I have all these papers scattered around, Aquila,” Hannah said.

Aquila waved a hand. “Just leave it,” she said. “It’ll be there tomorrow, trust me. I want her back at my house by six o’clock, Legate!”

“Of course. Follow closely, Hannah.”

Hannah followed the Legate out of the Death and Torture HQ. There was a name for the big building where Aquila worked, but she didn’t recall what it was and couldn’t even pronounce it.

“Did Aquila do your hair like this?” the Legate asked.

“The braids? Yes,” she said.

“That’s how Caesar likes all the priestesses to braid their hair,” he said. “I never really noticed the differences in the braids. It’s all the same to me. I suppose it’s different when you’re a girl.”

Hannah shrugged. “I don’t know anything about braids or dresses,” she confessed. “Before I met Aquila, I only ever tied my hair up in a ponytail and wore pants.”

He laughed. “A real tomboy, huh?”

“Yeah, my sisters would have a blast in Aquila’s closet,” she said.

“Did they have a hand with the runaways you helped?” he said. He led her into his home. The slaves bowed down to them as they walked past the kitchen and out the back door to his backyard.

“No one helped me.”

He led her to a gazebo. He pointed for her to sit at a coffee table. Tea had been set for the two of them.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Hannah,” he said, sitting across from her. “I’m not going to hurt you. Everything you say to me today is between you and me. I won’t tell Marius or Vulpes Inculta. Not even Caesar. You drink tea?”

“Not really,” she said.

“At least help yourself to the chocolate then,” he said. He poured himself a cup and put three sugar cubes in. Three! The man has a sweet tooth, huh?

“I’m not lying,” she said. “No one helped me. I mapped all of those routes on my own. I’d tell the kids to sneak onto empty caravan wagons. Usually, merchants leaving Flagstaff had close to no goods in their wagons, so they’re perfect for kids to climb into and hide.”

“How did you get past our guards so well?” he said.

“I’m tiny,” she said. “And I’m a lot quicker than any of the recruits I’ve seen so far. Like, a lot faster. I could run circles around the fastest fourteen-year-old here, I bet you.”

He took a long, languid sip of his tea. “You really should try this tea, Hannah,” he said. “It’s very calming.” He poured her a cup.

“Can I ask you questions?” Hannah said.

“Only if you drink my tea,” he said. “And if you answer two more question for me when you’re done.”

“Okay. Is your name really Malpais Legate? Like, that’s the name your mom gave you?”

He laughed. “You have a private audience with the Legion’s second-in-command, and that’s your first question for me?”

“I mean, I only just found out who you were recently,” she said. “And it’s not like I had too many burning questions for you before.”

“It’s not my real name,” he said. “Would you like to know my real name?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Joshua Graham,” he said.

“Graham? That’s my mom’s last name,” Hannah exclaimed. “She was from New Canaan. You probably weren’t a Mormon, unless you were, of course. Were you related to her?”

The Legate’s forehead wrinkled together. His face screamed, _Gee, I hope not._ She wanted to ask him if he was related to Marius instead, but she settled with the sour look he had on his face instead.

“Just kidding,” she giggled. “But she was from New Canaan, though.”

“Is that so?” The Legate took a long sip of his tea. His face loosened a touch.

“Yeah, Kaylee Johnson. Married to Zach Walker, my dad. They’re not around anymore.”

There was a silence that fell between them. Hannah twisted the fabric of her dress around her hands and listened to the Legate’s even breathing. She didn’t know what else to say. Something about the twitch in the Legate’s eye when she mentioned New Canaan made her wonder.

“Marius told me about your parents,” the Legate finally said. His tea was all finished. Only half of his chocolate bar remained. “It’s a shame what happened to them, but you continue to impress me again and again.”

She jumped in her seat. How much did Marius tell him?

“Are you kidding me?” she hissed. “Please say you’re joking, because if you aren’t, I’m going to have to kill Marius. I swear.”

“Marius didn’t betray your trust. This is not information he relinquished to me willingly. In fact, I had to pry it out of him. Even then, there are gaps in his story. Either Marius has finally learned to keep his mouth shut, which would be a Herculean feat worthy of a promotion, or you haven’t told him about Old Man Hiram.” He leaned forward on the table, resting his cheek on his hand.

_Your turn_ , his smirk said.

Hannah never told Marius Old Man Hiram’s name. She purposely made her rants vague enough that he couldn’t run and tell and out Hiram immediately.

What’s her next move going to be? She’s been caught, but nothing about the Legate’s body language or his voice made her think that he was about to do anything to her. It’s almost like he wants something out of her.

“How do you know about Hiram?” she said. “Did Vulpes tell you?”

“Vulpes isn’t the only one with eyes and ears,” he said. “Did you ever see Hiram’s customers?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I was out every night sneaking kids out of the orphanages from right under the priestesses’ noses. And I didn’t want anything to do with the crap he was selling. I just needed a carriage with a hidden floor big enough for a couple kids to fit into.”

The Legate studied her face carefully. Finding her answer sufficient, he eased back into his chair.  “I need you to promise something to me, Hannah, and I need you to listen carefully: We keep Hiram a secret between us. Hiram is mine to deal with and mine alone. Vulpes does not need to know about him. I’ll keep your secret, and you keep mine. Deal?”

“Hiram is still alive, right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s going to happen to him? You’re not going to crucify him, are you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll watch him carefully, and his days of sneaking children in and out of town are over. I doubt he’d ever find a little thief as skilled as you anyway.”

That was all she needed to know. Old Man Hiram didn’t deserve a terrible death. As awful as the drugs he pushed were, she couldn’t blame him for making the stuff, and she could hardly blame his customers. The wasteland was terrible, and then you die. Might as well find something to ease a pain before you go.

She held out her hand and he shook it. “Deal. Why do you even want to know if I who Hiram was selling to? Do you want to know his biggest customers or something? I knew he was selling to some of the higher-ups, for sure.” Hannah wanted to jokingly ask him if he was a customer, but there’s no way.

The Legate didn’t look like someone who used. He must have been in his late thirties with just the faintest touch of grey in his dark brown hair and shallow smile lines around his mouth. He seemed like the type of older guy Lucy would be into, but he is the Legion’s second-in-command and a war criminal, so maybe that would be in poor taste.

He ignored her question. “I just recalled something about Marius. He’s actually been sent out on a mission today. He’ll be gone for a week.”

“A week? And he didn’t tell me?” she said.

“To be fair to him, I didn’t tell him about his assignment until today,” he said. “You must forgive me. I didn’t mean to separate you from him. You two seem to be getting quite close.”

“I’m just glad I get to sleep alone tonight,” she said. “He snores and takes up the whole bed. And he’s always whining about how I hog the blankets too much, but he won’t bother telling me he’s cold until it’s time for the both of us to wake up. Whiny jerk.”  Hannah took another sip of her tea and let the warmth calm her down again.

“So,” he said, “close?”

She rolled her eyes, but it annoyed her that he was right in some respect. Every night, Marius would tell her stories about what he did that day, how he felt, how excited he was to get promoted. He’d show her his bruises with a proud smile, like a kid coming back from school with a sticker on his quiz or something. She guessed that bruises and scrapes and wounds were the Legion’s version of stickers on your report card. The harder you hit, the tougher you got, the better kid you were. It was sad to see him happy over something so abusive.

She reciprocated, telling him stories about her life before the Legion came, her family’s farm, her sisters’ dreams of moving to New Vegas. Lucy wanted to be a singer, and Bella wanted to be a dancer. A real one, she insisted, not just a stripper. It always seemed like Tommy would inherit the farm when Dad got too old to work the fields, and Hannah, uninterested in moving away, would stay behind with him.

Her stories seemed like it had happened to someone else in another reality, but it only happened to her several years ago. She had only been with Marius for several weeks now, but she felt like being a slave, living with Aquila, and having tea with the Malpais Legate was part of a decades-old routine. The Legion had that effect on time, made you think it was older and grander than it actually was, like it’s all you’ve known and will ever know.

“Do you know about the Ancient Romans?” she asked.

“Interesting question,” he said. His eyes were dark, scrutinizing. This was a sore topic, it seemed. “Do you?”

“I’ve only read books about them,” she admitted. “Do other people…?”

“No,” he said. “Marius knows. I believe he told me his name was from an old history book.”

“You didn’t give him that name?” she said. That was a surprise. Marius sounded so Roman-y.

“I hate naming the recruits,” he said. “Marius luckily came with a Legion-appropriate name already. I’ve had the talk with Marius, but I didn’t realize I would have to have the talk with you. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go around with this information, for your own safety. Caesar would not appreciate a girl tearing apart his made-up history.”

“Is it all made-up then? All of this?” She gestured around her.

The Legate placed a palm on the table, leaning in close. “Real enough to have conquered tribes of the East,” he said. His voice was almost a growl. “Real enough to have conquered you.”

She bit her lip, unsure of what to do now. It seemed she had struck a nerve.

_Idiot_ , she thought, _why would you just let your mouth run like that?_

He leaned back slowly on his chair and ran a hand through his thick black hair.  “No more questions for you,” he said. “Not after that little comment. It seems like Marius’s mouth is rubbing off on you. Don’t think just because your Marius’s girl means I won’t discipline you accordingly.”

_You aren’t my dad,_ she thought bitterly. _You’re not even half the man my dad was_.

“Time for my questions,” he said. He pulled out a small knife with a snakeskin sheath. The blade was barely the length of his palm. “Have you ever killed a man?”

_Was this a trick question?_ She looked into his eyes, blue, serious. He didn’t seem like he was threatening her now. His face was calm and neutral. _What would he do if I said yes? What if I say no?_

“No,” she said quietly.

“Would you like to learn how?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the supervisor I worked with over the summer for giving me the inspiration to write Aquila. I was so confounded with your insistence to empower women and the middle-class workers of America while being the most conservative, anti-union, homophobic, racist goblin I have had the displeasure to work with that I needed to write a character based off you. I dedicate this chapter to you. Kiss my fat brown bisexual ass.
> 
> Also, sorting paperwork and listening to an old woman rant about Problematique things was all I did for my summer internship. In all actuality, there are far too many parallels between my old workplace and what I imagine the Legion is like. If only our vice president was half as attractive as Joshua Graham.


	9. Alucinatio Mentis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 2 am and I didn't get anyone to beta this chapter, but I'm going on vacation soon so I'm just going to upload anyway :o)))

“ _Maligayang pasko!_ ” Val ran up to Marius, with a big smile on his face.

“It’s not Christmas,” Nanay Liezel laughed, sitting down next to Marius. “Say, _maligayang bati_.”

“ _Bati,_ ” Val repeated, raising his arms high above his head. “ _Kangga!”_

Marius obliged him, wrapping his arms around his little brother and setting him down on his lap. “You’re getting heavy,” Marius said. Val’s weight pinched his legs a little more than usual.

His mother set his _leche flan_ on the table. It was a small piece, but it was all for him. Marius’s mouth watered. He reached a hand towards his knife, but his mother playfully slapped it away.

“Presents first, Marius!” his mother said, setting a box next to the plate. “It’s your eighth birthday, so you know what that means, right?”

His mother pulled a chair out and sat next to him. He could smell the jasmine and ylang-ylang perfume that she loved so much as she leaned in close to kiss him on the forehead.

“Go on, Marius,” Lola Liezel said. “I think you’re really going to like this present.”

“I already know what it is,” Marius said, grabbing the present and tearing the wrapping apart.

“A Pipboy!” Val squealed as Marius pulled out the device from the box.

“Yes, a Pipboy,” their mother said. “And someday, Val, when you’re old enough, you’ll get one, too. Put yours on, Marius. I modified this one!”

Marius slipped the Pipboy around his right wrist and tightened the straps. All the controls that were usually on the right side of the screen had been neatly cut and placed back to the left side so he could turn the knobs much easily.

“I was so worried about having to write with a Pipboy on my wrist,” he said, turning the knobs and flipping through the menus. “I can’t—I…this is the best present, Mom.”

He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder. She smelled like ylang-ylang and jasmine. It was sweet, intense, and intoxicating. It suited her personality exactly.

“Only the best for my eldest,” she said.

He pulled away and gave Val a hug, too. He felt overwhelmed with emotions. He couldn’t believe how much his mother had put into his present.

“Are you left or right-handed, Val?” he asked.

Val raised his right hand high in the air. Without missing a beat, Marius tickled his armpit.

“Haha, got your _kilikili_ ,” Marius teased.

The sound of his family’s laughter filled his ears. He could still remember the sound years later as he marched in the sickening heat of the wasteland.

* * *

Sweat ran down Marius’s back. His hair stuck on his neck, suffocating him. The second he got back to Flagstaff, he was going to take a pair of scissors and assault the mess of curls that had grown on his head.

“I didn’t know you had a Pipboy,” Faustus said, taking Marius’s hand and rotating it around to admire the device. “How does it work?”

“I don’t know, you just twist the knobs,” Marius said, a little irritated.

Usually, Marius was patient with Faustus, but the long trek to this pseudo-vault had taken a toll on his mental constitution. At least they had finally come upon the entrance, nestled on a rocky hill and covered by rocks and branches.

“If you help me move this shit around,” Marius said, “I’ll let you play with it tonight.”

“Watch your language,” Augustus said in a monotone voice. Nonetheless, he began helping Marius and Faustus move the debris to the side.

The door sure looked like a vault door. It was rounded and about ten feet tall, but there were no markings on the outside to indicate the vault’s number. Odd.

“There it is,” Faustus said once they had cleared most of the debris on the left side of the door. “The terminal the frumentarius was talking about.”

“Keep clearing the door,” Marius said. “I’ll get to opening it.”

The two older boys nodded, and they all got to work. Marius disconnected the connector on his Pipboy and plugged it into the terminal. It turned on with a groan, the internal circuits clearly unused for a long time.

“Enter a password,” the terminal read.

“Hell no,” Marius whispered and booted his mom’s old password cracking software.

He wasn’t sure exactly how the program worked, but he did know the basic premise. It would run through a litany of possible passwords, using the terminal’s “hint” system to narrow down the correct one. Typically, after four incorrect tries, the terminal would lock, but his mom found a way to trick the terminal’s internal clock to fast-forward and unlock itself automatically. Text flew through his Pipboy as the software cracked the password before finally coming to a halt several minutes later.

“Password correct,” his Pipboy read.

The terminal beeped in agreement, and soon after, Marius was able to open the door.

“How did you do that?” Faustus asked.

Marius wanted to wedge Faustus’s head in between the door and the rocks as it slid open and crush his head. Anything to get him to _shut up_.

“Alright, let’s go over the plan before we go in,” Augustus said. “First and foremost, we’re looking for pre-war melee weapons, power fists, and the sort. We bring that back with us. Any other guns or supplies we can’t carry, we’ll take inventory of now, so we know how many more scouts to send back here to retrieve them. Faustus, you’re on inventory. Marius, you and I will sort through the weapons we find inside.”

“How do we even know there are weapons inside?” Faustus asked.

“The Legate said that a frumentarius heard some townsfolk talk about a weapons merchant who managed to crack the password to the vault doors the good ol’ fashioned way,” Marius said. “Then, he tripped some security system inside and barely made it out alive. When he came back, the password had been changed, and instead of locking for several minutes after an unsuccessful attempt, it locked for ten years. That’s why we needed my Pipboy to unlock it.”

“Marius,” Augustus said through his teeth, “I don’t know if you remember this, but I’m the senior officer on this mission.”

“There’s no way you knew all the things I just said just now,” Marius said. “It’s kind of vital to share this kind of intel.”

“No, it doesn’t matter how we know about this place,” Augustus said. “We have a mission. We execute it. What the frumentarius’s business in the local town is the frumentarius’s business.”

“But—”

“Shut the hell up, Marius,” Augustus said. He pushed Marius aside and stepped into the vault doors. “I’ve had enough of your voice already.”

Faustus gave Marius an uneasy glance and followed Augustus.

This was going to be the worst.

* * *

“Marius, you aren’t paying attention.”

“What?” he mumbled.

His mother was right. Marius’s mind was a million miles away. He didn’t even quite know what he had been daydreaming about, but he sure wasn’t thinking about what his mother had been talking about for the past thirty minutes.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Marius, you might not think much about this lecture, but when you’re face to face with your first deathclaw, it might just save your life.”

Marius straightened his posture and laid his hands out on the desk in front of him. “I’m sorry, _Datu_ ,” he said. “I promise to listen from now on.”

“Good,” she said. “When does deathclaw mating season start?”

“Sometime in June when the weather is very hot, but the official date that we go by is June 19th,” he said.

“How many eggs do deathclaws lay on average in one brood?”

“Seven to ten.”

“How long is a deathclaw’s gestation period?”

“Seven to nine months.”

“How often do deathclaws mate?”

“Once every two or three years after they turn two years old.”

“And how long do deathclaws live for?”

“About twenty years.”

“How many deathclaws do you kill for your rite of passage?”

“One.”

“Wrong. Strike one, Marius.” His mother raised the piece of chalk in her hand and drew a huge ‘x’ on the board.

Marius groaned and fell back in his chair. “I don’t get it,” he said. “I thought I’d be learning about how to use a gun by now.”

His mother’s grip on the chalk tightened and broke the piece of chalk in her hand. “Are you doubting the _datu_ ’s lessons?” she asked.

He froze in fear. His mother was nicknamed The Deathclaw, on account of her being the best hunter in their entire family and…unfortunately, because she was much, much scarier than a deathclaw when angered. Marius wondered what his punishment would be. Running laps? Pushups? Bathroom cleanup duty?

Instead, she set the piece of chalk down and knelt beside Marius’s desk, so they were eye-level—her brown eyes into his blue ones.

“When you kill someone, you don’t just end their life,” she said, never once breaking her stare. “Maybe you’ll end up killing their children because no one would be able to feed them anymore. Maybe you’ll kill their brahmin because no one will tend to the herd anymore. Maybe their wife will die of a broken heart. When you kill a person, you have to take responsibility for all the lives of everyone depending on that person to come home.

“Here in Vault 60, we have the _datu_ , her family and companions, merchants and traders, and finally our farmers. I am not any more important than anyone else. We are a family of families, individuals weaved together to make a tribe.

“You must learn that you cannot unravel a tribe without repercussions, Marius. When you kill one person, you must be prepared to kill their family. The wasteland is unfamiliar with this concept. Too many meatheads out there running around with big guns trying to compensate for something. You must be the better man.”

She rose to her feet and took a couple of deep breaths.

“My father was an outsider, wasn’t he?” Marius asked quietly.

Her shoulders flinched like he had physically attacked her. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean, everyone in our family is expected to marry an outsider, right?” he said. “Because that one really old dude in our family thought we were cursed because we kept dying early? Plus, Val and I definitely don’t have the same dad, and I don’t look like anyone else in the Vault. So…”

“He…was,” she said, hesitating with each word.

“Was he like that?”

“Like…?”

 “Was he running around trying to compensate for something?” he asked.

She took another deep breath and smirked. “Well, for starters…he wasn’t compensating for anything.”

* * *

 _Damn it, Mom,_ Marius thought as he laid breathless and a little bruised on the ground. _I just got that joke. Ew._

“Just do your job, Marius,” Augustus hissed.

“And what is that supposed to be exactly?” Marius said.

“Doesn’t your Pipboy have a little map?” Augustus said. “Figure out where these damn traps are before we walk right into them.”  

“Well, it’s hard to do that when my Pipboy doesn’t have any data on the layout of this building,” Marius said. “And it’s not exactly easy to figure out where the fuck we’re going in the first place when _bullets flying everywhere_.”

“What the hell was that thing?” Faustus cried, punctuating his question by grabbing Marius by the collar.

“Stop freaking out, Faustus,” Marius begged. “I’m not the best at wrapping bandages, and you’re going to bleed right through that gauze.”

“He has a point,” Augustus said. “What was that thing? Do all vaults have that, Vault boy? How many more will we encounter?”

“That was a Protectron, I think,” Marius said. “We had about twelve of them, but I’d never seen one this human-looking before. It’s…bustier.”

They had been wandering around the vault for about five minutes before the assault happened. Faustus walked ahead of Marius and Augustus when the ground made a soft _click_ sound, and suddenly the Protectron with breasts activated from somewhere down the hallway from where they came and chased them further into the vault.

Despite all the chaos, the only injury between the three of them (excluding the bruises he would no doubt get from Augustus grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him into the first open door they could find as the robot exploded) was a bullet wound on Faustus’s left thigh. From what little Marius knew about anatomy, there’s supposed to be a big vein in your leg, but he figured that since Faustus wasn’t squirting blood everywhere, the wound wasn’t fatal.

What Marius wouldn’t give for a fucking stimpak to patch that wound right up.

Marius held the piece of metal that used to be the Protectron’s chest before he jammed a spear into its neck and cracked it open like a scorpion claw. It looked like a doll’s torso with no distinct markings other than a serial number on the inside, and whoever made it thought to give it an impossibly thin waist. He especially didn’t like the way it even had a dip in the middle to indicate a cleavage.

 “I think you should stay here while Augustus and I keep exploring the rest of the vault,” Marius said. “You’ve already activated one trap, and you’re a bit of a liability with your leg. We’re not gonna be able to haul ass like we did back there if you’re with us.”

“Fair enough, but where exactly are we right now?” Faustus asked.

Marius looked around. The white and light green sheets, the metal surgical trays, and the scalpels all indicated it was some sort of clinic.

“You’ve never been inside a clinic before?” Marius asked.

“What’s that?” Augustus said.

 _Tribals,_ Marius thought. _Deep down, we’re still an army of tribals._

“Don’t worry about it,” Marius said. “Let’s just go, Augustus.”

“ _I’m_ leading the way,” Augustus said. "Just try not to fuck things up for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations on making it through your first Filipino language lesson!
> 
> Translations:  
> Maligayang pasko - Merry Christmas  
> Maligayang bati - Happy birthday  
> Nanay - technically mother, but Liezel prefers it over lola, which means grandmother  
> Kangga - how I mispronounced the word for "carry" when I was younger, so basically Val's asking to be carried  
> Leche flan - actual Spanish speakers can be salty all you want about this phrase, but it's weird saying just flan in a Filipino accent, okay? It's weird  
> Kilikili - armpit! Got your armpit, you loser! Hahaha it's funny because little siblings are so damn gullible lol  
> Datu - closest western equivalent would be duke/duchess. It's the term Vault 60 uses to refer to its overseers. 
> 
> Star Platinum....will now...sleep...ssnnn..zz.....(if you see any glaring mistakes, feel free to comment or PM me and I'll fix it when it's not 2 AM)


End file.
